


A Ghost Among Gods

by SomethingthatsaysBubbles



Series: Reaching Valhalla [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Norse Religion & Lore, Alternate Universe - Thor Movies, Angst and Humor, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Multi, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Warning: Loki, Warning: This work might offend your preconceived notions about the afterlife, implied lesbian sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:42:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingthatsaysBubbles/pseuds/SomethingthatsaysBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The snake has weaved its lies.<br/>The father, asleep.<br/>The son, lost.<br/>The emissary will be forsaken.<br/>Two doomed to die, born to traitor’s blood.<br/>A time of serenity will fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Proclaim You...Frost Giants...

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I used the original script for Thor as much of my biases for the plot line, so there will be extended/deleted scenes included in this work. Also, I use italics normally to indicate a flashback, just in case you got confused. I use Norwegian occasionally in this story as a sort of slang Old Norse used between the lower-class of Asgard, all of my translations will be in the end notes and be aware that I don't actually speak Norwegian. I apologize, if I got something incorrect. I will attempt to update at least once a week. And, other than that, I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Ara scurried through the long, twisting halls in a worried panic. "Oh, where could they have gone to?" Her brows were furrowed together in concentration, and her mouth formed a thin line. Her fair face was a slideshow, changing in expression so fast the any onlooker might have thought she was about to transform into a horrible beast of some sort. She switched her attention from open doorway to open doorway as she “walked” down the hall, only stopping when someone of higher standing walked by her, to which she would respond with a quick bow and then fast-walk off again. She ignored everyone else most of the time unless the faceless figures were accompanied by a voice saying that of, “Hello” or “How are you?“ She was in such a rush that she had to constantly remind her feet that she was in the palace and running here was improper at best. Speaking of which -- she stopped a moment to pick up her skirts in her small, but calloused hands before continuing her journey: she didn't want her new adornments to be ruined, now did she? The female, sporting a curly mop of rapidly and oddly graying hair, smiled for a moment at the memory of a certain gorgeous, Asgardian Queen paying a midnight visit to her. Ara had been very confused when Frigga, or as she preferred Frigg, asked for her measurements a week ago. But her confusion turned to adoration when she showed up at her chambers with this wonderful garment last night.

It was a “simple“ dress according to Frigg, but fitting. It was made of the finest Asgardian silk, black of course, and its flowing material reached down to the floor and hugged Ara’s overtly thin body perfectly. It was custom tailored and every detailed stitch was executed with obviously perfected skill. The neckline was just perfect: not showing off anything on this modest girl, but not choking her in a turtleneck either, as it gently draped across her chest from one shoulder to the other. The sleeves were long enough to just about cover Ara’s fingertips, and the material faded in its color as the sleeves went on until they turned white at the wrist. She wore a pair of dazzling jeweled sandals and the only other accessory that adorned her was a black lace choker gifted to her by the King on her first birthday held within the castle walls.

Those who heard of the King and Queen’s generous gifts normally questioned as to why they would do this for someone as low in status as Ara. For, you see, she was nobody of royal blood. She was quite the opposite in fact.

She had grown up as the only child of a small family in an even smaller farming village on the outskirts of Asgard. And from the day she was old enough to carry a sword, she was trained as a warrior, as was her father before her. Her mother was the healer for their village and several villages around theirs, which caused her to leave home often. This was quite trying on Ara, especially after her father died. Being the warrior he was, it was no surprise that he died a true warrior’s death -- or that was how the history books accounted his demise.

He had been sent to Svartálfar to put an end to a dwarven uprising. The campaign, though trying and lasting more than the few months it was promised to be, was a victory for all Asgardians. Ara’s father returned and was renamed Koll the Brave, and his heroism was celebrated without end with lavish parties in Odin’s Palace night after night. However, something had happened in the dwarvish realm that he never told anyone and never would, for with each feast, with each praise he sank deeper and deeper into insanity until finally he ended the torment himself. Left nearly penniless and mourning the loss of a hero in every right, her mother kept her under a nearly constant house arrest. And Ara quickly resigned to a strictly antisocial nature, opting to only leaving her room or the family's courtyard garden when her studies called for it. This routine continued for quite sometime until word got out of the real reason as to why the young girl was so shut-in. You see, after her father’s loss, it was made apparent to Ara’s mother that her little girl had a gift. She could see the dead. Her village made her an outcast. All in Asgard believe in a Valhalla for all great warriors and a Hel for all others, there was no in between and they refused to accept that perhaps some existed who could communicate with the dearly departed.  
And so, what little outside contact she had was completely destroyed; the only people she had left were her mother and her grandfather, whom helped strengthen her psychic abilities through the use of his own magical might.

Now Ara lived in the palace, for her village had been attacked by a group of rogue Jotuns looking for revenge on the war they lost to the Allfather several years previous. Every building, every house, was burned to the ground. The ground was strewn with the dead and dying. Few survived, among them was a now orphaned Ara.The village was completely destroyed when Odin finally came to his people’s rescue. Those who had family were taken to them, those that didn't were taken from village to village by Odin and Frigga and found families who were willing to take them. It was on this trek that she made a very bold decision that would change her life for the better. 

_The Allfather was enjoying a simple, but sumptuous meal in his tent when one of his guards entered, dragging with him a young girl no older that his youngest son, who screamed and kicked at the man who held her midnight, curly locks in his hard grip. When he reached the feet of the Allfather, he unceremoniously threw the girl onto the ground before him as the King stood with a slightly confused look twisting his countenance. “She was caught trying to let loose one of your majesty's horses. My horse to be precise, my king.”_

_Ara sneered at the guard, a quiet growl leaving her dry, cracked lips, “Serves you right for insulting my father!” The small girl snapped her eyes open in fear, as she heard the sound of the sword that the soldier began unsheathing. She leapt up in a panic and hid behind Odin, a pathetic noise that resembled a hurt mouse escaping her throat. Odin signaled the warrior to stand down and turned, kneeling in front of the child. He smiled kindly at the scared girl, stroking her hair lightly, “What is your name, little one?” She turned to face the man in front of her; fear and determination filled her stormy eyes._

_“I-I’m Ara, Ara K-Kolldottir.” Tears slowly began to slip past the girl’s façade of strength and control as she spoke._

_Odin smiled softly, “Ah, Kolldottir. Your father was a great man. He fought alongside me in many battles during my youth. Our people used to call him Koll the Brave.” Ara smiled, and nodded her head. “And your grandfather 'The Great Magician'. You don't happen to possess his same magical might, do you?”_

_Ara downcast her eyes briefly in shame and quietly whispered, “I do-do not, your majesty.” Ara heard the soldier scoff at this and she quickly trained her hardened gaze onto him, somehow meeting his eyes with pride and a straightened posture although she stood at nearly the same height as his hip, “But my father trained me as a warrior, m'lord.” Although her voice was one of strength, the warrior smiled cruelly at the sound of the girl's lower class speech patterns muddling through the respectful title hanging off the end of her verbal attack -- an action which made angry tears ghost down the girl's visage._

_The Allfather wiped away the girl’s shame with a gentle thumb, a laugh rumbling his chest when her bewildered gaze turned back to him, “Ah, yes. A strong warrior like your father. I can see that. And, of course, a warrior like yourself deserves a good meal.”_

_At this, the man that had dragged Ara into the tent attempted to interject his opinion, “But, my king-”_

_“-Enough, Orm. Leave us.” Odin placed a gentle hand on the small of Ara’s back and guided her to the table he had originally been feasting at, sitting her in his chair. “This warrior and I have much to discuss.” Orm grimaced, but did as his King requested without complaint. And so, Odin and Ara were left to talk and feast throughout the night. The Allfather filled her ears with stories and tales of only the most magnificent kind. And it wasn't long before she felt safe enough to reveal her one truest secret to the King. Of course, he was sceptical. But, he decided to humor her, asking her to speak to certain peoples of the past. She did all that was asked of her, even going so far to recite his father’s last words to him, something nobody but him knew. And although he didn’t, and never could truly believe that there was a plane of existence between Valhalla and Hel in the afterlife, he could easily accept that at the very least she possessed a pathway to the Heaven of the Gods. So, he sent her back to her tent while he decided the ghostly girl’s fate. Ara thought the worst, sleep naturally eluding her that night as she, body and mind, opted to prepare for her execution -- a task which was not hard on her. For had she lived, the orphan would have nothing to know beyond a life alone; by the time the sun rose over the King's temporary camp, she even looked forward to a cruel end to her actions, for then and only then could she hope to be with her family again -- a thought which did not often roam through young children's minds. However, in the morning the Allfather approached her with a deal. She could leave her life behind and live at the palace, use her talents to assist in advising him or she could live a life cursed, moreover, a life that would end quickly should she use her skills at all. She chose the former._

_Odin smiled at the girl’s decision, leading her to his horse, where she would ride with him for the remainder of their journey. The dark clouds above them that had been gathering since the night before finally let loose their tears, washing away the Ara that once was and all remains of her past. “The rains are upon us, little one. But fear not. As long as you are with me, you are safe. You shall live in the palace from now on. It is your home now. You and your gifts will always be welcome there.”_

Ara, smiled in a combined state of sadness and contentment at the memory. She was extremely grateful for the Allfather’s kindness, although she knew what her life would be had she chosen the latter. Nevertheless, she was welcomed with open arms by his wife, Frigg, who treated her like a daughter from that day on and like a friend when she grew older. As the years went on she became even more loved in the hearts of Odin Allfather and Frigg. They adored her and asked her to be their daughter officially, but she denied them, giving the excuse that she was still her father’s child and couldn't bear to claim to be of high blood when she clearly wasn't. 

Nevertheless, Ara lived a blessed life. She was showered with gifts by both the King and Queen, but she strived to live as uncomplex an existence as she was brought into. She continued her studies, Frigga taking over her grandfather’s role helping her to expand her influence in the afterlife. And when she couldn't be found with the Queen, she was reading in the library or practicing her combat skills. She earned her keep by doing little odd jobs at first, but she eventually got a solid job as being one of the Allfather’s event-planners, advisors, and personal bodyguards. 

She spent her years in the palace growing up alongside the two Asgardian princes: Thor and Loki Odinson. They were quite apprehensive at first, when their father brought home this poor farm-girl, but they both warmed up to her in time and became the other-halfs of some of her greatest, long-lasting friendships. Thor was very much an elder brother to her, and he swore to protect her with his life. Loki was more a- well, she didn't know quite how to describe it. She could go to him with just about anything. They connected through their loves of learning and mischief. She wasn't much of a prankster, according to her, but she loved to see Loki in action. His antics always brought a smile to her face, and when Frigga grew older, he took over her place: becoming Ara’s weight and support while she continued to dance the line between life and death.

Through them she came across even more friends: Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. She got along well with all of them, but Fandral. She and Sif thought similarly and found that they were each other’s best matches when it came to sparring; together they rose to previously unreached statuses as female warriors, though Ara’s duties to the King kept her from fully pursuing the title of warrior. She could also be seen late at night with Volstagg in the kitchen, where he would teach her how to cook various foods and delicacies. Hogun was, well, Hogun. She respected him and looked up to him. Meanwhile he, just as Thor, promised to do whatever was necessary to make sure she didn’t leave to meet her parents in Valhalla too soon. Fandral, on the other hand, was Ara’s own personal annoyance. He would constantly flirt with her and follow up with mocking her appearance, and she would exercise her wit on him by making several lethal blows to his pride. They would go back and forth like this without stop and usually had to be sent to separate rooms by Sif and Volstagg. That was their routine, and Ara despised it. 

'Think of a rat, and it shall appear.' Ara smirked at her thought, yet nevertheless made an attempt to ignore the crowd of girls following a very pleased looking Fandral down the hall in the opposite direction.

“Oh my, if it isn't the little maid.” He threw a casual arm around her shoulder, turning to walk in her direction, a teasing smile plastered upon his features. “Tell me, when is this little maid going to come and clean my chambers?” He winked at her, his smile growing even wider. “Or perhaps I'll clean your’s?“ Ara scoffed, brushing his arm off her shoulder as she stopped to face him with a cruel smirk tickling the edges of her thin lips.

“Fandral, dear, I hardly think a simple maid would be able to skewer you like the pig you are, besides I am in a hurry.” She giggled lightly at his hurt expression. Grabbing his arms and holding them to his sides, she turned him around to face the hoard of females at his command, “Now then, I believe you can keep yourself distracted from my pretty face, even though you have the attention span of a cricket.”

She proceeded to pat his shoulder and journey off down the hall, turning a corner, but not before hearing a snarky, “Who said your face was pretty?”

Her sandals padded lightly on the tile floor, and her new dress rustled about her ankles. She looked about herself, eyes that were trained to see shadows flitting from detail to detail, and noticed people working away on last minute preparations. The walls of the hall she found herself in were metallic in color and freshly shined so that one could see a blurry outline of themselves in them, and Ara froze mid-step as she sighed in realization. "I've been here before. Great, I'm going in circles." Agreeing with her subconscious, she huffed in frustration and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Now my dear Ara, why are you in such a foul mood?” Ara spun on her heel and came face to face with-

“Volstagg!” She smiled and pulled the plump, bearded man into a bone-crushing hug. Said man smiled and laughed joyously, lightly petting the girl’s hair.

“Not in so much of a foul mood now! But pray tell, what is this news of the fire trails you are leaving behind from your rushed feet in the halls?”

Ara pulled away from the hug and looked up, trying to make up for her comparative shortness, at Volstagg in seriousness, “I will answer your question when I have found and talked with the objects of mine. Have you seen Thor and Loki?” Volstagg laughed and grabbed a piece of mutton off a passing plate that was headed to the dining room for the feast later that night.

“Why are you so serious, my dear? Relax. Enjoy. Today is a day to celebrate.” He took a bite off the meaty bone in front of him, and continued on with his mouth full, much to Ara‘s disgust, “Now, you ask me if I have seen them. Why, yes, many a time. I remember this one time when I saw Thor as he fought back at least a thousand monstrous...”

Ara sighed in exasperation, watching her friend continue his rant to himself as he walked off into the kitchen to pillage and plunder. She turned about herself, searching for someone who might cooperate with her. That was when she spotted two of her favorite people standing not too far away removing their weapons and placing them on a table, for weapons were banned at festivities such as these, but she giggled as she watched Hogun sneak a small knife from the pile and slip it into his gauntlet. She walked, skipping occasionally as she normally did, over and greeted her two friends, “Lady Sif, Hogun, sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping you could assist me?”

Sif, without even making eye contact, shook her head in rejection, “I’m sorry Ara, but we have much to do.”

“Yes I know, but-” She was cut off as Sif held up her hand to silence her objections.

“I’m sorry, perhaps another time.” She left the table, walking to an unknown destination, and was followed by Hogun, who nodded quickly to Ara as he took his leave. She growled angrily and turned to the nearest guard. The next five minutes were composed of Ara rushing about the hall and trying to get someone’s attention, but she was continuously cut off before she could get a single word in. The thing about Ara was that she was never very fond of going unheard when she had a task to preform. She eventually grew sick of receiving the cold shoulder, and she decided to take more drastic measures. The young woman stood on a nearby table, faced the crowd of workers before her, took a deep breath, and screamed. Everyone immediately ceased what they were doing, most with looks of anger or contempt, and focused on the girl standing before them. She smiled inwardly, pretending to not see the mean stares, and yelled, “Does anybody know the whereabouts of Prince Thor and Prince Loki?” In unison they all pointed to their left, towards a set of double doors. Ara looked toward the doors, smiled and turned back to the crowd, whispering a soft thank you, accompanied by a quick bow and her jumping off the table.

She hastened to the doors and pushed them open with such force that they nearly knocked a servant carrying an empty wine goblet off his feet, “Oh dear, I'm so sorry.” He grumbled something about snakes and Loki and stomped off to the kitchen. She shrugged and dashed down the steps in front of her, past the raging fire pit and series of golden banners lining the hall, stopping only when she had slammed herself into an unsuspecting Thor. She wrapped her thin but strong arms around his chest, underneath his armpits, and squeezed him as hard as she could. He laughed before placing his beloved Mjölnir at his feet, unhooking her arms, bending down, wrapping his buff arms around the circumference of her body, picking her up, and crushing her against his chest. She laughed, but it came out in gasping puffs due to the sheer might and strength in Thor’s hug. She tried to get him to let go but to no avail, so she turned her head to the side to see a smirking Loki and mouthed a comical “help me.” He laughed lightly, before tapping his brother’s shoulder, gaining his attention. “I don't mean to interrupt, but perhaps you should put her down before we have to explain to father how you accidentally snapped her in half like a twig.”

Thor dropped her back on the ground, mumbled a quick apology, picked his hammer back up, and then belched a laugh, “Ah, I see you got the present our mother had fashioned for you. It suits you quite well.” His smile looked like it was going to break his face. “I don't mean to boast, but it was entirely my idea.” His loud voice thundered through the air, nearly making Ara and Loki’s ears bleed.

Loki furrowed his eyebrows in mock confusion, “As I recall, I was the one that brought it up to mother.”

Thor turned to his brother, who now wore his signature, playful smirk, and said, “Ah yes, but I was the one to originally come up with the idea.” He turned back to Ara, a smile plastered on his face like he was the victorious one in this argument.

“Only because I told you that she needed a dress to wear for your coronation.”

“Well, if I wasn't being crowned King, then she wouldn't need a dress, now would she?” Thor finished his comment by sticking his tongue out childishly at his brother.

Loki rolled his eyes, “Well, brother, it isn't always about you. For instance, does she even like it?”

Thor mouthed Loki’s question to nobody as a mocking expression dawned his features, “Of course, she does. I’m the one who picked it out.” Loki would have objected to this, but Ara had decided that enough was enough and so she intervened.

“Ladies, ladies you're both shine more radiant than the Halls of Valhalla.” They both now had their attention on her as she inwardly laughed at her previous statement; the look of confusion from Thor and another of slight disgust and hurt pride from Loki almost made her lose it, “I am sure you both put the same amount of time and effort into it.” At this comment she smiled at Thor, who smiled back with his typically blinding grin, but then turned to Loki who she sent an “I know that you did more” look to which he responded with a grin. She smiled, swaying herself from side to side to create a gentle rustling of her dress, “And thank you both, it is simply beautiful.”

The two brothers smiled at each other, and then Loki, being the one with manners, turned and said a quick “The smile on your face is more than thanks.” A comment which was not ignored by Ara's visage as it blushed a light red before she turned her attention to the future King of Asgard.

“Also…” She hugged Thor again, lightly and full of a serious sincerity this time, and whispered, pride and happiness dripping off every word, “I am so proud of you.” Her smile reached from ear to ear, and the blonde prince hugged her back gently.

A horn sounded off in the distance, one letting all the spectators know to start getting in their places. She smiled, pulling away from the embrace, "Almost time." Her smile faded into a small smirk when she looked back at Thor and noticed the fear and nervousness that filled his sky-blue eyes. He was looking off past the stairs to the side of them, the ones that would lead to his crowning, with his lips drawn into a serious line. She chuckled and turned his face back to hers with a caring, gentle hand, “Do not fret. You deserve this. You will be a great king, Thor. I’m sure of it.” He nodded in appreciation as Ara went to work adjusting his cape and armor and, after she decided that he looked presentable, the three faced the stairs: Ara between both of them, her arm hooked around Thor’s. She softly stroked his arm with her free hand in an attempt to calm him.

The sound of quickened footfalls filled the silent hall as a servant entered and walked up to Thor. He bowed, and handed the soon-to-be king a silver helmet sporting two bird’s wings, before bowing again and then motioning Ara to follow him. She gave Thor a quick peck on the cheek, “Congratulatory reception business. I shall return shortly.” She began to follow the servant to the privacy of discussing their matters behind a nearby tapestry, but she stopped mid-stride and dashed back to Loki and Thor, gave Loki a quick peck on the cheek, and giggled, “So you don't feel left out of the circle of love, prankster.” Ara, with a bright smile, rushed back to her fellow party planner, but only paid partial attention to the details being given to her.

Loki, after shaking his thoughts free of Ara’s small show of affection, focused his gaze on his brother’s helmet, “Oh, nice feathers.”

Thor laughed heartily and turned to face his mischievous brother, “You don't want to start this again, do you, blushing cow?” True, Loki’s face was slowly reddening due to the chaste kiss placed to his cheek, and his own gold helmet was adorned with giant horns, but he laughed it off. Loki turned to face Thor with an expression of mock surprise.

“I was being sincere!”

“You are incapable of sincerity.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” Their playful banter paused for a moment, which caused the on-looking Ara to twist her head slightly in both interest and confusion.

Loki’s aura of playfulness changed to one of gentle seriousness, and he looked into his brother’s eyes as his voice took on a tone full of adoration and praise, “I have looked forward to this day as long as you have. You are my brother and my friend. Sometimes, I am envious. But never doubt that I love you.” Ara smiled at the show of affection, and the servant finished his one-sided conversation and left Ara’s company with a small nod.

Thor smiled in understanding and clasped a hand on his brother’s armor-clad neck, “Thank you.”

The two brothers smiled at one another, but the beautiful moment was ruined by one hand of a pair being placed on each of their heads, accompanied by a female voice saying, “Now give us a kiss.”

The two princes looked down at Ara and laughed with her, Thor lightly flicked her forehead, “Stop it.” They faced the stairs in front of them once more, with Ara in the middle, falling back into a nervous silence. A sigh was heard from Thor as he tossed his helmet in his hand a few times, and looked himself up and down, fear evident in his orbs. “Really, how do I look?”

Ara, wrapping her arm around Thor’s, like she had previously done, and clasping her other hand in Loki’s, looked between the two most important men in her life with a prideful grin, “You both look like kings.” Thor kept his face forward, lost in his own world of worry, but nodded at her comment. Loki tightened his grip on her hand, causing her to make eye contact with him, and the two exchanged heartfelt smiles, even though Ara could see the slight element of sadness and disappointment behind her friend's gaze. She then turned her head back to Thor, rubbing his arm lightly to try and keep his fears at bay. Loki took in a deep breath and breathed out a sigh as the horn blew again in the distance, “It's time.”  
There was a silent pause as the three let those two words fully sink in. Thor was the first to break the silence.“You two go ahead.” Ara frowned at the thought of leaving her friend in such distress, but nodded in understanding, releasing Thor’s arm. She made to walk away, but Loki kept her by the hand. She turned to him, about to question, but was interrupted by Loki looking intently at Thor. Thor looked at him, his features drowned in something between playfulness, nervousness, and seriousness, and motioned to the stairs, “I'll be along, go on.” Loki sighed and walked forward, still not meaning to let go of Ara’s hand, and up the steps.

They walked in a semi-comfortable silence which was ended when they reached the top of the stairs. Ara tried to veer off to the left and find a spot in the crowd where others of her social status would stand on occasions such as these (as she was used to), but was pulled back by Loki’s grip on her hand. He stopped walking and they faced each other where confusion met smirk, “Now, where do you think you're going?”

Ara, voice laced in confusion and an infectious playfulness she always gained when speaking to the God of Mischief and Lies, addressed the tall man before her, “To take my place, obviously, why? Is that not a custom followed in Asgard anymore?”

Loki’s smirk grew wider, “Why yes, of course. But only if you take the right place.” With this he entered back into his normal stride, dragging her along with him as he switched hands and drew her closer, before placing her hand gently in the crook of his arm.

“Oh, and what is the right place, my prince?” She smiled joyfully, but her eyes remained pools of swirling confusion. Loki looked forward, nodding his head at the people they passed as they got closer to the platform where the crowning ceremony would take place, always with that smirk plastered on his face. She wondered if it ever hurt his lips to smirk so much.

She thought that she wouldn't get an answer, but he eventually turned to her, playful question dancing in his green eyes, “Today?”

Ara scoffed turning her face from him in overdramatic disbelief, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “No, tomorrow, obviously.” 

Loki chuckled at her reaction, turning his attention forward again, “Ah, well. Tomorrow, today, and everyday from now on, my dear, it has been decided that the right place, your place is by mine and my mother’s side.”

Ara, who had originally been looking at Loki, gasped out a "Really?" and turned her head to see the arrangement before her as she listened to Loki explain.

“Yes. You see, with Thor becoming king, there is now an empty spot. And we can't have that, now can we?” Before her, at the top of beautiful, golden steps, was an equally beautiful and equally golden throne which Odin Allfather sat in. An air of power and control surrounded him, but Ara could easily make out the excitement and slight worry to crown his son that danced in the age his wise face. To his right stood Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, looking regal and presentable. Volstagg was the first to notice her stares, and he made a point to jab Fandral lightly in the arm and point to her. Fandral then did the same to Hogun, who did the same to Sif.

They all gave her their own versions of greeting, whether it be a nod or a wave, smiling at her giddiness to be there. Fandral, of course, winked and blew her a kiss, which Ara rolled her eyes at. Once she removed her attention from them, she realized that to Odin’s left, glowing brighter than the morning sun in her gorgeous, golden dress, was Frigg. The two women made eye contact and smiled at each other, and Frigg opened her arms as an invitation for a hug, as soon as Loki and Ara reached the steps. Ara wasted no time in removing her hand from the comfort of Loki’s arm so she could move up the steps in as much flawed grace as she could muster, very flawed, and gave the queen a gentle hug which was readily returned with a small whisper in her ear, “You shine like a star in your new apparel, dear one.” She detached herself from Frigg’s embrace and thanked her, returning the compliment, before taking her place on the stairs in front of Loki, who stood with one leg up on a higher step than the other, back straight, giving Ara a smirk before giving the rest of the crowd his most serious prince-face.

She giggled inwardly and looked out at the crowd, swallowing in fear, 'All of Asgard must have arrived.' At her thought, she suddenly felt exposed before everyone as she noticed a select few giving her stares of hate and jealousy. She smiled nervously, feeling her fight or flight response start to kick in. Her social anxiety, a lingering symptom left over from her days behind walls, began to show it’s ugly head, taking over her thoughts as a scared voice in her mind continuously repeated, 'Run. Run. Run. Run. Run…' She decided it would be best if she didn't look at the crowd anymore, and turned her attention back up to Frigg, whom she always found solace in, but Ara found that she was too busy looking at her husband to notice her distress. 

Loki, on the other hand, noticed her nervousness, and Ara was suddenly broken out of her thoughts by a calming voice in her ear, “Calm down. All is well. Take a deep breath.” Ara listened to the voice and inhaled deeply, catching a brief scent of Loki in the process. He smelt of leather and rain: two of her favorite smells in the world. And his natural aroma also possessed a tinge of that old book smell that was her absolute favorite above all others. His smell always calmed her in instances such as these, she found. “Now, breath out through your mouth.” She did exactly as he commanded and smiled as she felt her worries beginning to fade away on the wind she created.

She turned her head to the side to find Loki’s smile just a few inches from her own, “Thank you.” His smile grew even wider. Their eyes locked for what was a brief moment, but felt like a lifetime to the both of them. Ara found herself lost in a sea of blue and green, and Loki in turn found himself lost in the gray clouds of Ara’s own orbs. They were both pulled from their respective trances as trumpets sounded and cheers erupted all about them. They both snapped their heads forward and became silent as they watched Thor walk through the center of the crowd with his hammer raised high above his head. Ara resisted the overwhelming urge to scream along with the crowd as she saw her friend do the same, silver helmet gleaming.

She felt her heart swell with pride and watched with bated breath as he kneeled before his father and removed his helmet, placing it on the handle of Mjölnir which was laid carefully on the ground. He still wore the same smile that she had shared with him minutes prior, and he turned his attention to Loki, Frigg, and Ara whom he gave a cheeky wink to. Frigg frowned disapprovingly, and Ara tried to withhold her giggles at the smile that continued to be plastered on the God of Thunder’s face.

Odin stood from his seat, and the entire hall fell silent. “So long entrusted with this mighty hammer, Mjölnir. Forged in the heart of a dying star, from the sacred metal of Uru. Only one may lift it. Only one is worthy. Who wields this hammer commands the lightning and the storm. Its power has no equal - as a weapon, to destroy, or as a tool, to build. It is a fit companion for a king.” Ara took the brief pause to smile warmly at Thor, who she could tell was getting more and more nervous as the king’s speech went on, but she turned her full attention back to Odin as he spoke again, “Today, I entrust you with the greatest honor in all the Nine Realms. The sacred throne of Asgard. I have sacrificed much to achieve peace. So, too, must a new generation sacrifice to maintain that peace. Responsibility, duty, honor. These are not merely virtues to which we must aspire. They are essential to every soldier and to every king.”

Ara found herself becoming distracted as a strange cold began to overtake her body. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she felt like her entire being, soul and all, was slowly freezing to death. She went into a trance, the voices of the long past taking over her body as she sought out the source of her unease, where the words of Odin were slowly replaced by a strangled voice creeping its way into her ear drums. “Thor Odinson, do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?”

“I swear.”

“Do you swear to preserve the peace?”

“I swear.”

“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge yourself only to the good of all the Realms?” The voice was joined by others and by a few screams of pain. They sounded far off, but oddly new -- lost but not forgotten. She couldn't determine what the voices were saying, but she knew that something was amiss. Something was seriously amiss. Death, just underneath her feet. But, how? Why?

“I swear!”

“Then on this day, I, Odin Allfather, proclaim you-” Odin paused, mind seeming to be lost in analytical thought, turning to Ara who looked at him in fear and question. They shared a common realization as they both came to the same terrifying conclusion. Ara had hoped that her mind was simply playing tricks on her, but the voices had suddenly become clear, whispering to her the answers to her questions. All her fears were confirmed through the two words the Allfather whispered to the crowd, “Frost giants…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: "Tears of an Engel" is now up.


	2. Tears of an Engel

Odin ordered a lockdown, and everyone was immediately thrown into a frenzy. People were rushing about in all directions. Ara‘s mind grew hazy as she soon found herself lost in a sea of people. Guards stood in various spots trying to calm the crowd. 

“Get to a safe area!”

“All is well!”

“Don‘t panic!” 

Ara held her skirts in her hands and twirled about herself, head snapping to look in a million different directions. She didn't know how it came to be, but she closed her eyes one second and opened them in the next to find herself on the ground. A nearby guard held his hand out to her, and his mouth was moving, but his voice was lost in the ringing in her ears that had been created by the thousands of screaming people surrounding her. She took his outstretched hand and was lifted to her wobbly feet. He said something indistinguishable to her and ran off to gods know where. People shoved past her, but she remained unmoving. Her tempestuous eyes widened in shock. This all seemed far too familiar.

_People ran past the small child screaming the names of loved ones, some in fear and anguish and others in anger. She looked about herself unsure of what to do. Gazing up, she felt something cold touch her nose. Snow._

The crowd began to panic even more as someone pointed out that the walls and ceremonial tapestries were beginning to frost over.

_The little girl giggled at the cold, white things falling from the sky. Why weren't the others stopping to enjoy this splendid occurrence? She reached her hand up to touch the small flakes, but was stopped as a thundering crash was heard near her. She turned to see the farmhouse next to her explode. Tall, blue beings brandishing clubs and other weapons walked out from the rubble. She heard the people around her scream, and her childish, high-pitched cry joined in as one of the terrifying creatures ran towards her releasing an animal-like roar. She ran off and didn't look back._

She tripped over herself as she ran, not bothering to know where she was going. She was stopped in her wild pursuit of sanctuary by two slender hands grasping onto her tense arms.

_She made to let loose another heart wrenching cry, but it was interrupted by a hand being held to her dry lips. A single name escaped her trembling form through the fingers across her mouth, “Mama.”_

“Loki.”

_The woman held her own look of panic, as she smoothed the frightened child’s hair. “Listen to me, *engel.”_

“Ara.” He looked at her with a determined calmness. His grip on her arms tightening with every word he said.

_“Run away.”_

“Go to your chambers.”

_“Hide.”_

“Stay there.”

_“Worry not-_

-I’ll come get you.”

_“Stay-_

-safe.”

_The mother allowed a single tear to run down her face as they both realized that they would never see each other again. She pulled her daughter close and kissed her forehead._

He ran a gentle hand against her cheek and gave her a nervous smile.

_She whispered against Ara’s flushed skin, “*Jeg elsker deg.”_

He pulled her into a brief, but rough hug before taking off after his brother and father.

_A blood-thirsty roar was heard from not that far off, and the mother lightly pushed her daughter away, “Run, engel. Run to live another day.” The little girl, with tears in her eyes, did exactly as her mother commanded, and-_

He never looked back as he disappeared into the thickening crowd.

 _She never looked back as her mother was brutally murdered._

* * *

Ara slammed her bedroom door behind her and locked it. The noise created by the heavy door slamming shut was soon drowned out by the labored breathing of the woman leaning against the barrier. She rested her aching forehead on the cool wood and inhaled sharply every few seconds. Her eyes remained closed, but soon snapped open to stare fixed at the stone floor. In a sudden fit she shoved herself from the door in fear and walked across the room to her window. The glass took up the entire wall opposite her door in ivy covered panels, and two stained glass doors in the very center lead out to a small stone balcony that overlooked a beautiful forested area that she lovingly referred to as the Grove. A small pile of books laid strewn across a stone table along with an empty mug of tea. On one side of the table sat a simple, wooden chair with a black seat cushion. The back of the chair would normally look like a spider had crafted it, but sadly the beautiful, cobweb design was covered by a slightly damp, white towel. On the other side of the table existed a soft, welcoming, black and green loveseat with no back: the kind that would be placed at the foot of a bed. In fact, it had once been in exactly a place such as that, but the previous owner hadn't wanted it. Ara remembered the day when Loki showed up at her door, nearly begging her to rid him of his seemingly horrid birthday present. He dared not tell his mother that he thought the seat ugly -- let alone that the fabric which had swirling, green ivy-like designs running from curved armrest to curved armrest, made him want to burn it -- so he thought that Ara could help him “accidentally” lose it. But she fell in love with the beautiful couch, and placed it on her balcony to read books on.

Ara smiled inwardly as she thought back to how the original owner of the loveseat often found himself laying on it, head resting on one of the armrests. He would read a book aloud as Ara would find solace and sometimes sleep, laying her tired head on his chest and placing the rest of her body between his long, lanky legs. He always made a snide comment at some point about how uncomfortable it was resting on the “horrible insult to furniture” like that, but he never made to move her, unless it was to her bed should she go off to dreamland. She sighed as she was reminded by the ivy on her and Loki’s couch of the ivy lining the balconies railings. Those small, green vines had a story to tell of their own.

_“Oh, Ara! Oh, Ara! Let down your hair, so that I may pay my dear friend a visit!” A younger Ara, one whom had finally met the open arms of adolescence, removed the pressed rose petal from between her lips and placed it in her copy of “Midgard: A History of Earth” to mark her spot. She giggled lightly as she placed the worn, leather-bound book on the table next to the candle she had been using to give her light. It was now fairly early in the morning, and she had been out on her balcony since the day before last reading about the mysterious place called “Earth” where “humans” lived. She found them interesting and wanted to meet them and learn from them, meanwhile many other Asgardians were only interested in the fact that they worshiped them as gods or goddesses. Ara groaned as the cold, night air hit her body when she removed the fur blanket that had been her companion that night. She walked to the railing, lavender nightgown flowing about her, and she leaned over to rest her elbows on the cold, tan stone. Her short, curly, graying hair stuck out in odd places, making the young prince below chuckle._

_She smiled down at the prince below her, his own mop of midnight locks nearly hiding his boyish visage from view, “Ah, now to whom do I owe the pleasure? Surely not my knight in shining armor! Oh, but tell me, isn't my knight supposed to be in bed right now?” She smirked playfully at Loki, silently challenging him to one-up her in wit._

_Loki laughed, “Ah yes, well perhaps I should return to whence I came?” He chuckled and turned his back to his friend, making to walk back to his own chambers._

_“Ugh, Wait!” Loki smirked in victory and turned back to face Ara, who was now leaning further over the railing with her arm somewhat stretched towards him. She smiled and moved her hand back, running it through her tangled mane. She straighten herself and placed both hands on the stone wall as she lightly swaying back and forth on her heels. “I never liked that fairytale much...” Loki smirked and walked closer to her, so that now she could see that he, too, was in nothing but his sleeping clothes. His feet were bare, and he wore a pair of black, silk pants and a green cotton shirt._

_“And I never meant to leave.” As he said that, vines began to climb their way up the stone wall, up the three stories to Ara’s room, and wrapped themselves around the railing she was holding onto. She pulled her hands away in surprise and was about to question the ivy that now found refuge on her balcony, but she got her answer when she looked down to see Loki climbing up the new foliage. “See?” He hoisted himself up onto the platform with a grunt, “Not leaving.”_

Ara smiled lightly, but then grimaced in disgust as she pulled the black curtains adorning her glass wall closed, effectively blocking out all natural light from her room. A few lit candles that stood on the end tables next to her bed still cast a small amount of light about the room, but it wasn’t much. She turned around to face her bed, squinting her eyes against the darkness. Her bed was about the size of a queen mattress, situated on a raised platform between her front door and the entirely glass wall, with black sheets, a white comforter, and a series of black pillows. The wooden frame was decorated with small carvings of names of those she had conversed with in the afterlife, and the head-board reached up to touch the silky, sheer, black canopy that descended from her high ceiling like a waterfall of delicious fog. The soft fabric was tied to the posts of her bed in such a way that, should she choose, her bed could be cut off from the rest of her room for more privacy. Oh, how Ara wished to sleep away her troubles right now. She ran to one of her end tables and grabbed a candle, then she turned her attention away from the bed and crossed the room to her bathroom.

Her bathroom had no door, but instead the entry way was covered by a wall of white crystals. She walked through them and smiled as she felt the familiar, calming sensation of them rubbing against her skin. The room was small and simple. (Mind you, when I say small and simple, it is by Asgardian royalty standards.) On one side of the doorway was a beautiful, smooth, stone tub, and on the other was her toilet and a small shower-head situated above a lone drain. Before her was another doorway covered in white crystals that led to her closet. It was a small walk-in with the walls on either side of her lined with clothes and shoes of varying uses; the wall at the back of the closet was a giant mirror with a wood desk placed before it covered in various make-up and hair supplies and accessories. She entered the confined space, placed the candle down on the table, and immediately set to work.

She moved to a wooden chest, made visible by the moving the dresses that hung in front of it, and began to strip. When she had shed all of her previous clothing, she moved the dresses aside and opened the box. Inside was a simple white shirt, a black under-bust corset made of bilgesnipe skin and metal plating laced in the front with black ribbon, a red jacket in two pieces; one was just a collared vest with gold plating on the front that started at the very top of the corset and came down to two coat tails in the back, the other part was the sleeves which could be laced to the vest with black ribbon like the corset, a pair of black leather boots, two short swords, all the necessary bells and whistles to strap the swords to one's legs, and a pair of black pants, also infused with bilgesnipe skin. Aside from the swords, she had received this ensemble as a gift from Lady Sif’s steadfast lover: Sigrid.

She quickly donned these clothes and strapped the swords sheaths to her legs, but kept one weapon in her hand as she grabbed the candle, and walked back through her bathroom to her bed. She held her sword firm as she cautiously snuck to her bed. She blew out the other candles surrounding her sleeping space and drew the canopy above her bed. She sighed, held her sword close, and blew out the candle. Darkness engulfed her.

_Darkness engulfed her. She sat frightened, hiding behind the beloved apple tree that resided behind the charred remains of her house. Her breath was heavy on the air as she clutched her arm, trying to stop the bleeding. She had been injured trying to protect herself, the proof being the bloody sword that lay close to her. It was night, and it seemed that the stars were too scared of the blue creatures invading the town to light the path of the lost, little girl. It was silent. Too silent. Yet, the screams of her former neighbors and fellow villagers continued to echo inside her head. She could no longer discern which were the voices of the living and which the dead. But that didn't worry her; all she could focus on now was the occasional roar in the distance. She tried to stay still, but instead found herself gently shaking in terror. Oh, why couldn't they just go home already? Her mother was dead. Her village was dying. Everything was either on fire or frozen. What more could they want?_

_Her fear and anger blinding her, she moved from the shadows, and was seen by a nearby Frost Giant. However, she didn't realize this until she was thrown to the ground, and she saw him standing over her laughing._

_“What’s this? A little tree spirit!” She gasped, tears running down her face, and tried to crawl away from the fearsome monster above her. He laughed at her pitiful attempts to escape death and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her a few feet above the ground. “Pity, if you were a few years older, maybe I would have some real fun with you.” She clutched desperately to his fist and screamed out in pain as the beast’s skin burned her own. He smirked, and his free arm became a giant icicle, “Any last words?” The little girl coughed and whimpered at the pain being dealt to her. “No?” He threw her to the ground once more, growling, “Beg for your life!”_

_Ara coughed, a small amount of blood trickling out of her mouth, “I don't fear death.”_

_The Frost Giant roared and brought his hand down onto the spot where the girl once was, for she had rolled out of the way before he had struck her. She crawled backwards until her back met the apple tree, now scorched by frost. And as the giant turned towards her and approached, grinning viciously, she blanked. Her mind became white noise as a blood curdling scream ripped through her throat. The earth around her cracked and fissured, black smoke rising from the opening. Her screams continued as the smoke swirled and dancing around her before shooting forth and ripping the giant’s soul from his body before returning to whence it came. And as the smoke left, so did Ara, blacking out to later wake up in a makeshift tent alongside other injured survivors._

A sudden bang on the door awoke Ara from her thoughts. She tensed, but remained silent. Another bang rattled her door. She drew her other sword from its place on her thigh and stood before the door in her fighting stance: one foot three spaces behind the other, knees slightly bent, one arm held out slightly bent at the elbow, and the other arm above her head, sword facing down in shoulder-stabbing position. Another bang didn't come, but her eyes were drawn to the latch on her door as it began to glow and jiggle. “A magic user.” The thought made her tense again, and she gripped her swords tightly in each hand causing her knuckles to whiten. Suddenly the door flew open to reveal a very surprised looking Loki. He stood in the doorway with his hands held up in front of him in a surrendering fashion while looking between the two swords in Ara’s hands. She noticed that he was now in more casual dress: the helm and heavy chest plating gone. Ara scowled and put the two weapons back in their places on her thighs. Loki raised an eyebrow in playful question.

Ara grimaced, “Don't give me that look. You could have been a Frost Giant.” He walked into the room nonchalantly and closed the door behind him as Ara moved back the black curtains shutting her room off from the world.

“Forgive me, it is just odd seeing you pull a weapon on me.”

She rolled her eyes and opened the two doors to her balcony to let some clean air into the room, “Perhaps you deserved it, Odinson.” Loki relit her candles and pulled back the canopy of her bed with a flick of his wrist.

He chuckled and sat down on the soft bed, then sighed as he laid down fully on the warm softness and closed his eyes, “What makes you say that?”

Ara looked back at the slender man with her lips pressed tightly together in frustration. She stomped her foot on the ground and strode over to the God of Mischief. She harshly gripped the collar of his shirt and threw him from her bed. He grunted as his stomach collided with her cruel, stone floor. Ara ignored his sounds of displeasure and sat on his back, hooking her legs around his arms, and used all of her weight to keep him down. She laced her hand into his locks and pulled his head up slightly so she could meet his eyes, “Don't underestimate yourself. You left me alone.” Her voice was venomous, challenging. 

Loki laughed and rolled his eyes,“You are ridiculous.” Ara removed herself from him, anger radiating off her in waves. Loki turned back to face her, playfulness and slight irritant swirling in his voice, “You are being overdramatic.” She remained silent, looking out the open doors of her balcony, until she felt Loki’s arms wrap around her from behind. Her voice was forlorn, wise in sadness.

“Loki...the last time Frost Giants attacked, everything I knew, everyone that I loved was destroyed...I was alone.” She took in a shaky breath. Even in her deepest sorrow, she always remained strong; she rarely cried, at least in front of others. He had seen her shed a tear or two before, but for the most part she would simply recede within herself when faced with sadness. She felt no need to cry, for she had been faced with worse and knew that she could move on and through it. She dealt with her scars herself and never gave anyone a reason to be concerned. She took a deep breath and sniffed, calming herself by deeply inhaling his natural scent and further burying herself in the leather of his clothing by turning herself around and returning his embrace. Eventually, she found the strength to look him in the eyes for a brief minute before deciding she didn't want him to see her so weak. She dropped her gaze back to his shirt, seeming to be entranced by the simple fabric, and lazily fingered the metal and leather. “Stories told everyone that we were unprepared, that we weren't ready. At all. That isn't exactly true…” She took in another broken breath, trying and failing to keep her sanity together. “We had alarms, look-out towers bordering our town, it gave us a few moments warning. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough...Enough for my mother to tell me to run.” Slowly the tears began to fall, and Loki wrapped his arms tighter around her. She didn’t fight the tears, but rather welcomed them, enjoying the feeling of not being numb for a brief moment, even if it meant she was vulnerable, “She told me to run far away and never look back. She promised that she would retur-rn. She pro-omised that she w-would c-come back-ck. Sh-she promised to-o find me.” Loki’s heart broke at her words, he longed to help heal her wounds. But he knew no spell to heal something beyond physical ailment.

She eventually pulled away from him and halfheartedly smiled up at him, “Forgive me.”

He looked at her in confusion, “For what?”

She sniffed and giggled lightly while running her hands over his chest armor, “For crying all over your good armor.” Her head dropped down as a small chuckle racked her body. He snaked his arm tighter around her waist, pulling her closer, and held her chin with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand, tilting her face up to look at him.

Her gray eyes showed nothing but confusion as he smiled down at her, “Don't ever apologize for feeling.” She reached up a hand to wipe at her reddened eyes and smiled at her long-time friend. She whispered a soft thank you as Loki placed a kiss to her scalp and rubbed her arms lightly in comfort, “Now come, I have a feeling that we have a Thor-ish mess to clean up in the dining hall.” Loki released her and walked forward to open the door. He bowed, ushering her through the doorway, and with a very fake servant’s voice said, “After you, m'lady.”

Ara giggled and curtsied, “Why thank you, kind sir.” She walked through and was followed by Loki, who closed the door behind them. He wrapped his arm around her waist again, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they walked. Neither spoke, for they didn’t feel like they needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I love you  
> *Angel 
> 
> The next chapter, "A Very Long Vacation", is now up.


	3. A Very Long Vacation

The large dining hall was exquisite. Everything was cleaned and set to meet the high expectations of a royal, celebratory feast. The black, marble steps that led, from all sides, to the center of the room were glossed to perfection. The larger tables were lined with crisp, tan table cloths that brushed the floor. The delicious food to be consumed that evening was piled high on the finest golden plates that could be found, accompanied by the best goblets to be filled with wine later on. Small tables stood in the corners of the room, decorated with simple plants and certain sweets that were only made for the most special of occasions. The torches were lit and ready to provide light and warmth to the guests that night.

Earlier that morning, Ara had been beaming at the knowledge that she had helped create this beautiful sight with the help of a few others hand selected by “King” Thor. But, now her eyes were widened in shock at the scene before her. Her mouth hung open in disbelief, and she felt a mind-numbing combination of rage and sadness overtake her, causing her hands to clench into fits and her lips start to tremble. The main table; where it was planned that the royal family, the Warriors Three, the royal advisors, and various heroes and influential beings would sit; was completely upturned. The food, which had taken so many hours of painstaking labor to make, littered the floor, and goblets and plates were strewn across the marble in thousands of broken pieces or were crushed beneath the huge table. The marble dragon statues that headed the table were broken, and the polished floors, that had kept Ara up all night polishing to perfection, were scratched to the point of looking like tree bark. The rest of the dinner crew was gathered by the doors to the kitchen either shivering in their boots or staring in anger across the hall. One of them was even holding his knee with pain evident in his eyes.

Ara let out a small growl, noticed by Loki who chuckled and rubbed her hip lightly as she followed all of the hate filled stares to Thor sitting on the steps past the pillars before them. “How could he do this! This was all for him!” She narrowed her eyes at the thought and imagined wringing his princely neck. Loki smirked and leaned down to lightly kiss her temple. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply , letting his calming presence fill her again. She smiled internally before reopening her eyes and looking at Loki with forced neutrality. “So what made him this angry?” She sighed in a whisper and gestured to the entire room.

“Nothing.” He smiled in knowing, and Ara smirked in return. “Fine, fine. I'll tell you later.” Ara nodded, beaming inwardly in a deadly fusion of rage and delight, and Loki chuckled again, grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face the group of distressed workers. “Now, you handle your pains,“ he looked at his brother in disgust, “And I'll handle mine.”

She sighed, placing her hands on top of his, “Wish me luck?”

“I believe I'm the one who needs it.” The pair nodded to each other and took off in their separate directions.

Ara walked over to the man holding his knee and crouched down next to him, rolling up his pant leg without so much as a word. When she saw the small, but still bleeding scrape, she looked at the old, gray-haired, blue-eyed head chef with a gentle smirk, and inquired, “Do you care about these pants?” She gave him no time to respond as she rolled the leg down once more to rip off two strips. She then re-rolled the leg and used one of the strips to lightly wipe at the blood oozing from his wound. He winced in pain as her hands worked as gently as they could. “Sorry.” Ulfthegn nodded his head and let out a small whimper. Ara smiled; he may have been as old as dirt itself, but he had the soul of a child. When she had finished, she wrapped the other strip around his knee.

“Thank you, Ara.” She smiled at her friend of a few years as she helped him to his feet.. They had met when Volstagg had failed to show to one of their midnight snacking parties, and Ulfthegn, plagued awake by nightmares, had offered to make her some chocolate covered pretzels. They became fast friends and spent many nights working late together. He was one of the few servants who didn’t look down on her for the royal family’s favor towards her.

“Anytime, Ulf. Though this is only a short-term patch. I suggest you take the rest of the day off and see a healer.“ She looked to the rest of the servants, who had all given up cleaning the mess and were migrating into the kitchen, and sighed. Ulf offered her a gentle pat on the back and a warm smile. She made to walk forward and help the others with whatever they needed help with, but Ulfthegn stopped her with a soft hug. When they pulled away he beamed at her, and she giggled.

“No. Let me handle the masses.” He lightly shoved her away from himself mumbling something about feminine wiles to which the two laughed even harder. “Now go, go.”

“Alright, I’m gone.” Ara rolled her eyes as she walked away from him and back to Thor and Loki. She noticed that Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and Sif had joined them, and that Thor was walking amongst them speaking passionately about something. Volstagg seemed to be mourning the spilled food, but other than that the rest of the warriors’ expressions were close to unreadable. Meanwhile, Loki was sitting on the steps, close to where Thor once was, looking at the ground in distress, his head in one of his hands. Ara perched herself on one of the legs of the upturned table, across from Loki, and kicked at the ruined food.

“And who proved wrong all who scoffed at the idea that a young maiden could be one of the fiercest warriors this realm has ever known?”

Lady Sif smiled, “I did.”

Thor looked stumped for a second before quickly responding with, “True, but I supported you.” Thor climbed the steps and began to make his way to Loki, “My friends, trust me now. We must do this.” He stopped, gesturing to Loki as he continued his speech to the warriors before him, “You're not going to let my brother and I take all the glory, are you?”

This final prayer to his friends startled Loki, and his eyes went wide and shifted back and forth unseeingly, “What?”

Thor’s smile dropped slightly, and he looked in worried question to his brother, “Well, you are coming with me, aren't you?” Loki bounced back in an instant and turned to Thor while flashing his typical smirk.

“Yes, of course.” Loki stood and, with what Ara could tell was mainly empty determination and pride in his voice, said, “I won't let my brother march into Jotunheim alone.” Thor smiled at his brother and clapped his hand on his shoulder.

At the mention of Jotunheim, realm of the Frost Giants, Ara’s eyes widened in fear, “I’m sorry, but um...what!” Everyone turned to her in shock at her sudden outburst.

Thor sighed, “Ara, please, this is no conversation you need partake in-”

“My best-friends suggest going to Jotunheim, a campaign that just might kill them? Yes, this is very much a conversation I need partake in.” She was now standing, with her arms crossed and her eyes staring the thunderhead down.

“Odin believes that they haven't broken our treaty, but I know that they have. We will only be looking for answers, my friend.”

She rolled her eyes at Thor‘s words, “And what happens when looking for answers turns into looking for a healer, hm?” The room was silent for a moment, as they waited for Ara to continue on her tirade. “Listen, you and I both know well enough that this will end in nothing more than another _glorious battle_ , so my point is that none of you have ever fought a Frost Giant before. Do you know what you are going up against?” She snapped her head to the side when she heard a scoff come from the direction of the other warriors, and she narrowed her eyes at the sight of the large ego that was Fandral.

“Oh please, we have heard stories of battles from the war. Fighting them will be simple.”

Ara responded, every word dripping with power, control, and challenge, “War stories, Fandral, since when has a story ever been told where the warrior speaks of the bloodshed, the fear, and true power of the enemy. Everyone either makes the beast they kill seem greater to land in the arms of a swooning woman or make the enemy seem weak compared to their might for the same purpose.”

Hogun, face still emotionless as ever, addressed Thor, “She has a point.”

Thor was about to give his two cents, but Fandral interrupted once again, “Yes, but in that case there is nobody we can ask who will tells us properly of what we are facing, so why bother.” The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as they all waited for Ara to speak up.

Fandral chuckled throwing his hands up into the air, “What?” Sif silenced him with a look as Thor looked at Ara encouragingly.

The woman in question, predicting the direction of this conversation, shook her head in refusal, “No. Thor, I know what would be your will, and I must humbly decline.”

Thor smiled in comfort at his friend and made his way down the steps to lightly place his hand on her shoulder, “Ara, we need to be prepared.”

Volstagg, who was preparing something from the food items on one of the smaller tables around the room, tried to make jest about the current situation in order to lighten the mood, “Perhaps she secretly wishes to kill us all!” Loki narrowed his eyes in disgust at the ginger man before turning his attention back to Ara, who shivered, terrified by something only she could see. She then took in a deep breath and spoke, sorrow now flowing like warm honey through her words: a sound that one could only describe as hopelessness.

“They rely on brute strength. Their primary weapons: clubs, ice, and the occasional sword.”

Fandral rolled his eyes and whispered to himself, jokingly, “Ice, of course.” At this, Ara snapped. Her eyes burned with rage, and she dropped her arms to her sides forming her hands into fists. She hissed at him through clenched teeth. Couldn't he understand that she was trying to help them! Every sentence that came from her mouth was venom directed at his disgusting jugular.

“Imagine if you will, Fandral, an icicle surrounding my arm. It’s tip coming out a foot from my own appendage. Imagine that coming straight for your heart or head with a deadly accuracy that nobody would ever expect from my large form, one possessing a height that doubles yours. And even if you want to run for your life, you can’t because the ear-shattering roar that bellows from my throat, as I run at you with a speed that would put even the great Odin’s war horse to shame, freezes your mind and nervous system, because you know that is the last thing you will hear before your soul leaves your body!”

Everyone gaped at the malice coming from her vocal cords, and Thor put an arm in front of her, afraid that she was going to attack the warrior ahead of her. Loki smirked at the scene unfolding before him, and he found himself incredibly proud of the dagger glare Ara was sending Fandral’s way.

Sif’s voice dragged Ara back to the others around her, her anger slowly leaving her, “Do we have a chance?”

Her face showed nothing but seriousness and control as she addressed Sif‘s question, “What they possess in power and strength, they lack in functionality. The very animalistic nature of them is their downfall. They are slow in mind. They have a habit of charging at a target, move fast enough out of the way and you should be fine. Long range weapons are best. Aim for the legs to slow them down, and finish off with a hard blow to the heart or head. Go for the neck if you can. Avoid touching them with bare-skin at all costs. I don't know exactly what it was, but I felt extreme pain. It could have just been brought on by the Frost Giant’s strength, but I can't be sure. It felt like I was being roasted alive.” Ara stopped for a brief second as she lightly rubbed the front of her neck from collar bone to collar bone. “Be light on your feet, be wary, and trick them. Be cautious, and don't underestimate them. It isn't always about strength. Sometimes the killer hit is in placement, not power. Become as catch-able as the wind.“

They all nodded in understanding. Thor‘s voice drew her eyes to met his, and he smiled, “Is there anything else we should know?”

She sighed, there was no convincing them not to go, but returned the smile, “Yes, don’t die.”

Thor’s smile grew wider, “I don't plan to.”

'None ever do.' Ara smiled sadly at her thought. Loki gracefully made his way over to his brother, who threw an arm around Loki’s shoulders.

Loki kept his signature smile on as he spoke to the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, “Despite the risks, I will still be by my brother’s side in Jotunheim.”

Volstagg was the first to answer Loki’s not-so-subtle call to arms, “And I.”

He was followed by Fandral and Hogun, who added, “The Warrior’s Three fight together,” in typical Hogun fashion.

Lady Sif was the only one who seemed to take Ara’s words to heart. She bowed and said, with worry stitched into her voice, “I fear we'll live to regret this.”

The group of warriors left to go retrieve the needed items for their adventure with Volstagg mumbling a quick, “If we're lucky.”

Thor laughed in joy. But then he turned to Ara, who was visibly upset, frowning slightly at the sight of his best-friend in such a state of worry. He engulfed her in one of his bone-crushing embraces, “Don't fret so. We will return soon and unscathed.”

She forced a laugh and looked between the two brothers, “You better or I'll end you. Now, go kick some Jotun arse.” She gestured past her with her thumb, and the two brothers chuckled and bowed to her in acknowledgement before hustling off.

She looked over her shoulder to watch them leave, and smiled as Thor turned to yell back at her, “We will call for you the moment we return!”

With that, Ara was left to her own devices in the large dining hall. She released a breath she had not realized she had been holding and looked to the ground. The food still littered the floor; she wondered when that was going to be cleaned up and if she should assist in the matter. She knelt down, grabbing a plate, and started to pile up the ruined food as her thoughts began to wander freely. She was so lost in her own mind that she didn't hear Ulfthegn’s staggered step approach her until he was directly behind her. She smiled, standing and brushing her hands on her legs, and turned to face him only to jump back, withholding a scream at the sight that met her. His eyes were completely drained of color, leaving nothing but a haunting, hazy white behind. She had no time to compose herself as the possessing spirit immediately began to deliver its message. Ulf’s voice took on a female undertone, but sounded strained, lapped over by several other voices. “*Slangen har flettet sine løgner. Faren: sover. Sønnen: tapt. Den utsending vil bli forlatt. To dømt til å dø, født til forræder blod. En tid med ro vil falle.”

“*Hva må jeg gjøre?” The color began to come back to Ulf’s eyes. “What must I do!” The chef jumped back in surprise, looking about himself: lost.

“A-Ara...why-” Ara grimaced. She hated it when the voices were cryptic, it made her job harder.

“Not now, my friend. I have a war to join.”

* * *

Ulfthegn watch in confusion as Ara stalked off quickly. He turned about himself, mouth agape, trying to form an explanation for his current surroundings. Just a moment ago, he had been limping to his room. He remembered looking at a passing mirror, and he swore he had seen a- Well, it didn't matter, it was obviously a hallucination. But, still, why was Ara speaking of a war? They were currently in their longest period of peace yet. And she had seemed so-so- He sat down on the ground, head in his hands. Finally his confused mind decided upon one single explanation, “I need a vacation.” He looked around himself, and sighed, “A very long vacation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The snake has weaved its lies. The father: asleep. The son: lost. The emissary will be forsaken. Two doomed to die, born to traitor’s blood. A time of serenity will fall.  
> *What must I do?
> 
> The next chapter "Once a Warrior Always a Warrior" is now up.


	4. Once a Warrior, Always a Warrior

There they were, in all their glory, strutting down the stone path that so many proudly referred to as “Battle Alley”. Thor: God of Thunder. Loki: God of Mischief and Lies. Lady Sif: Goddess of War. And the Warriors Three: Volstagg the Lion of Asgard, Hogun the Grim, and Fandral the Charming. Each member of the party strode with confidence in their step past the seemingly forever-present line of statuesque guards to the table of weapons and armor waiting for them. Although, the company of warriors had been more than slightly confused when they discovered that their horses were armored, saddled, and waiting, and their weapons supply was already laid out upon the stone table outside. Moreover, what truly unsettled them was that the servant who was usually in charge of those peradventure preparations, Halla, had not been the one to see all that done. They tried to draw the name of the culprit from the petite red-head, but she left in haste, muttering something inaudible under her breath.

None of their misgivings seemed to stick with them though; for once they reached the table, they all set to work. Volstagg picked up a cloth and began to wipe down his large battle ax, and Sif began inspecting her dual-bladed long staff to see if any foreign fingers had damage it since the weapon was last in her hands. Loki was smirking to himself as usual about something known only to the prankster, and Hogun was more-or-less sculpted from stone. Thor was the only one of the company who seemed to be visibly shaken by not knowing who had prepared for this supposedly secret undertaking of theirs, and he found himself lost in thought, looking at the rally of excited horses before them as suspicion crept into his bones. Who else knew of their journey? 

All his possible questions were answered when two hands, encased in black leather gloves, suddenly ripped the silver mirror Fandral was using to admire his appearance in from the warrior‘s grasp and replaced it with his saber. “Fandral, darling, if we’re going on this life-threatening mission, please try your hardest to stay focused.”

Everyone was drawn from their respective thoughts to stare in various states of confusion, alarm, malice, wonder, and happiness at Ara who now stood between Lady Sif and Fandral. She pulled out one of her short swords and smiled at Volstagg, silently asking for the cloth he held. He smiled in return and eagerly handed it to her. Meanwhile, Fandral was the only one to question her presence, “Firstly, what do you mean by we? I hope you’re not chancing to join our company, because -- even if you knelt to me like a good little servant -- it will not happen within your lifetime. And secondly, I was focusing. If I look good, I’ll fight good.”

Ara smirked and handed the cloth back to Volstagg, “ _Firstly_ , chance is a fleeting companion for a warrior. So even if **you** knelt to **me** , I would not leave my fate up to chance. I am joining you on this escapade as much as we both hate the idea,” She smirked past Fandral's narrowed eyes to stare down the look of guilt that passed over Thor’s visage for a moment before continuing. “Secondly, _well_. You fight well, not good. You have a brain; use proper grammar, please. Thirdly, Nyela is sick, so I need a horse.”

Fandral made a sound of disbelief and turned to Thor, adjusting his fur cloak and gloves, “Surely, you can’t just let her join? It has been years since she last fought alongside us,” He placed his hand down on the table to emphasize his point, only to have Ara deftly remove a knife from her sleeve and slam the butt of it onto the stone table in the space between his middle and index fingers. He screeched, pulling his hand back and clutching it protectively to his chest. Ara chuckled, returning the knife to its rightful place with a Fandral-esque, flamboyant flourish of her wrist and a raised eyebrow. She cracked her knuckles and smiled at Fandral's stare of amazement and dare-he-say slight arousal.

Sif smirked, “Once a warrior always a warrior.” The two women regarded each other warmly, “Glad to have you on board. Finally, I won’t be alone in this festering pit of testosterone.”

Fandral rolled his eyes and decided to ignore the two females, “So Thor, what is the plan?”

Said prince looked forward in seriousness, “We must first find a way to get past Heimdall.”

Everyone continued to listen and complete their last minute preparations as Volstagg voiced his concern, “That will be no easy task. It's said the Gatekeeper can see a single drop of dew fall from a blade of grass a thousand worlds away.” Thor laughed, his mouth-breaking smile making its way to his face again, and made his way to his horse.

Volstagg followed after Thor, ax in hand, but slowed his progression when a certain blonde swordsman decided to make jest of his comment, “And he can hear a cricket passing gas in Niffelheim!”

Ara giggled as Volstagg looked truly worried and offended, his mouth panicky forming the words, “Jest not! He heareth all!” Sif picked up her shield, giving Ara a friendly wink, and walked off after her fellow warriors, pulling up her pale, purple hood in the process.

“Please. Getting past him should be simple enough now, since he seems to be letting Frost Giants sneak by under his nose.” The last part of Fandral's comment slipped past his lips in a chuckle, making Volstagg look to the skies in complete terror.

“Forgive him. He meaneth no offense.” Sif smiled lightly at Volstagg's whispered plea to the all hearing ears of the Gatekeeper. Hogun, who had been previously examining his mace for any imperfections, didn't bother making eye contact as he too walked to his horse. Ara frowned, who was going to share a horse with her? She looked to Loki, the last person remaining at the table in expectancy. He smirked and nodded, so she smiled and ran off to the auburn and black-haired stallion named Radagast. Loki had received the horse as a birthday present from Ara, who often helped tend the royal horses and stables as a part of her duties, and she had been joyful when Loki allowed her to name him. The beauty neighed in delight as she approached, and her smile only seemed to widen as she pet the horse’s muzzle.

She looked back, tilting her head in question, to see Loki talking quickly to a guard as she mounted Radagast and grabbed the reins to steady the spirited horse. She shrugged and looked about her, smiling as the rest of her friends mounted their own horses. She gasped inwardly as she felt hands on her own and mentally smacked herself when she blushed, feeling Loki’s body pressed so closely behind her own. She turned her head to the side and smiled up at the familiar face so close to her own. When Loki’s hands gave hers a light squeeze, tickled up her arms, down her sides, and his arms wrapped around her waist, she felt herself blush again, and she snapped her head back forward. “No. Not now.” She quietly whispered the words to herself and tightened her grip on the reins.

“What was that, Ara?” Loki inquired, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side.

“What? Oh, nothing.” She said, smiling nervously, before thinking to herself, _‘Just becoming sexually frustrated by your proximity to my body.’_ Unbeknownst to Ara, Loki chuckled inwardly, tightening his hold on her as she tried to deny the words that had previously left her lips. Magic was a wonderful thing at times, allowing him to bend world energies to his will, make duplicates of himself, and even shape-shift (an ability that led him to realize several years previous that he had successfully received the favor of a certain ghostly girl of his.)

But, of course, being the God of Mischief came with a reputation, a natural affinity to devilment and distortion. Yes, he could reveal his knowledge to her, but where was the fun in that? Although, he did believe that their little game was quickly coming to an end. Soon he would tell her that he reciprocated her feelings, and that would be when the real fun would begin. But until then-

Thor looked to the company, each giving him a nod to say they were ready. When he reached Loki and Ara, he smiled at the sight. He was one of few who knew of their infatuations with each other, and he had been internally pairing them together since their younger years. He made eye contact with the pair; they looked startled for a moment before they nodded in unison. He laughed inwardly and looked forward with a smirk now curling at the corner of his mouth. With a snap of reins, the company took off towards the Bifröst and its protector: Heimdall.

The large, golden gates before them opened as they galloped forward and, after a few minutes of riding, they past the usual markets and shops of the main city and were finally at the rainbow bridge. The bridge, made of crystallized, technicolor energy, truly took after its name as the beat of the horses’ hooves down upon the surface caused bright explosions of energy to ripple through the multitude of colors. The bridge stretched over the sea before the palace of Odin and ended at the end of the realm of Asgard itself in the form of the Bifröst. That same golden dome was their destination. The Bifröst was Asgard’s most prized possession. It allowed all to move from realm to realm with ease; it is what kept the Asgardians in control and the Nine Realms at peace. And the powerful machine was solely run by Heimdall: the great, golden-armored giant himself. He watched over the Nine Realms with his powerful sight and hearing. If anything went on, he knew about it. Which is why it should have come as no surprise to see him standing in front of the Bifröst: waiting for them.

Ara tightened her hold on the reins and tried her hardest to keep her eyes forward on the Gatekeeper, away from the sight of the swirling waters below the bridge and the endless black abyss of nebulae and worlds far away that the salt sea spilled into. It frightened Ara to know how small she truly was in the world, and she was always reminded of that when she saw the stars of the Nine Realms before her. She shook her head free of her thoughts and focused back on the task at hand. How were they to get past one who sees all, hears all, and knows all?

She hoped Thor, at the front of the pack on his own dazzling, white horse, had a plan, because she sure-as-Odin’s-raven did not. And it didn't help that her mind was swirling with thoughts of the prophecy given to her from the afterlife. Ara squinted her eyes against the brightness of the setting sun and looked back quickly to check on her riding mate. The sight that met her was pulchritudinous, and she felt her heart beat harshly against her ribs, which then felt painfully similar to a bony prison. The setting sun lit up his person, making his black locks, that were slightly disheveled from the ride, and his blue-green eyes shine. The smirk that was always plastered on his face was still in its rightful place, but Ara wished for a second to see his perfectly white teeth in a smile only true happiness could give you. She whipped her head back around, rolling her eyes at the picturesque nature of it all, as a bittersweet expression crossed her face. She knew how unlikely it was to be able to drag a genuine smile from the young god. Yes, he could fake one and often did, but she knew the shadows that swirled about his heart. Someone in the hereafter had recently grown very concerned in regards to Prince Loki, and they had told her of the darkness he was receding deeper into. She just hoped that whatever torment he suffered from was extinguishable. Moreover, she hoped beyond hope that her darling silver-tongue was not the snake the specter had warned her about.

As Ara was drawn further into her own thoughts, Loki was reveling in her presence. She had always been an aggressive, powerful warrior, and an equal match to his intellect and wit. He admired this about her, and for this reason and many others, he had decided to keep her close. She would be a great ally to him. Whenever he found himself as close to her as he was now, he could feel the control radiate off her body, and it frightened him. Excited him, but more-often-than-not simply instilled a throbbing fear in him. He knew he had to- No, he wanted to think of a way to make her want to fight for his side when the time came, that was certain. He already had a plan forming in his head, but how to go about it...

The duo were pulled from their thoughts when Thor brought his horse to a stop. Everyone halted their horses as well and dismounted. Loki hopped off Radagast with grace, and Ara was going to follow, but Loki wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her off himself. She was a raw, blushing mess when her feet reached the ground, and she coughed out a thank you to the prince still holding her waist in his gentle hands. He smiled and winked before rushing off to meet his brother. Ara sighed as she watched him leave, patting Radagast lightly on the neck before walking over to match Lady Sif’s strides. The two woman silently acknowledged each other, but gave no smile or nod to say so, both of their heads too far gone in thoughts of the tasks bearing down on their shoulders.

Ara watched Loki mutter something to his brother with a smile before walking past him and up to Heimdall. “Good Heimdall-”

Without missing a beat the guardian, orange orbs fixed on some unknown point past their bearings, interrupted with his powerful, steady voice, “You’re not dressed warmly enough.”

Loki tilted his head to the side slightly and fell into a more serious tone, “I'm sorry?”

“You think that you can deceive me?” His persona was so calm and collected that it made the entire group feel like they were see-through. Perhaps, he did truly know all.

Loki immediately went into damage control mode, trying to save what was left of his pride as master persuader and speaker, “You must be mistaken. We're not-”

Thor’s mighty voice thundered through the air, “Enough!” And Ara winced at the bite in Thor’s words, bewildered by how quickly Loki was dismissed. She knew that Thor was only doing what was best, but the way he went about it could have been better. He walked past Loki, as said prince looked to the bridge in failure. “Heimdall, may we pass?”

Those eyes, which had until that moment remained immoveable and unblinking, shifted to stare deep into Thor’s soul, “Never has an enemy slipped my watch until this day.” His gaze flickered to Loki, but it was shrugged off by all except the God of Lies who sent Heimdall a challenging look. “I wish to know how that happened.”

“Then tell no one where we've gone until we've returned. Understand?” The question was more of a statement as Thor walked past Heimdall and into the Gatekeeper’s observatory, arrogance fueling his every step. Heimdall let the entire party pass with nothing but a lingering, soul-searching gaze. Ara walked by Loki’s side into the Bifröst and let out a growl loud enough for Loki and, of course, Heimdall to hear when Volstagg addressed the black-haired prince’s flub.

“What happened? Silver tongue turn to lead?” Fandral and Volstagg erupted in chuckles, and Loki sent them a hate-filled glare for a moment until he felt hot breath on his ear.

“Get me off this bridge before it cracks under his girth.” He turned to watch Ara pull away from his ear and give him a wink. The two smirked in merriment and silently laughed together as they entered the Bifröst. Unseen by them, Heimdall sent the pair a knowing, but worried look. Other than that, everyone walked past into the golden structure without a word. Nobody stopped to admire the beauty embellishing the inside of the building as they all quickly made their way to the portal; though it truly was a beauteous sight. Everything shined with gold and intricate designs lined the walls in circles where the energy given off by the Bifröst would be collected. In the center of the structure were a series of steps that came up to form a circular pedestal where the “keyhole” was standing. The keyhole was a pillar that, when Heimdall’s mighty sword was slid into it, would galvanize the energy beneath their feet and make the outer shell spin, which would draw the power of the rainbow bridge into the portal. The sheer force of the portal itself would latch onto every atom of every individual planning on using the machine and draw their very essence of life into the stream of technicolor energy, and from Ara’s experience it was just as fantastically terrifying as it sounded.

She rolled her shoulders in preparation as Heimdall gave them his last words of admonition, “Be warned. I will honor my sworn oath to protect this realm as its Gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Asgard, the Bifröst will remain closed to you. You'll be left to die in the cold wastes of Jotunheim.” Volstagg, voice dripping in nervousness, asked a question that Ara had to roll her eyes at: the answer was common knowledge after all.

“Couldn't you just leave the bridge open for us?”

Heimdall’s responding vocals gave off a tickle of Ara’s disbelief at Volstagg's stupidity, “To keep this bridge open would unleash the full power of the Bifröst and destroy Jotunheim with you upon it.”

Thor smiled and said, radiating determination and excitement, “I have no plan to die today.”

“None do.” With that said, the Gatekeeper slid the “key” the rest of the way into the control device, and the group was pulled forward by an unseen force into the portal and sent to Jotunheim.

The seven Asgardians were blasted from the Bifröst in a stream of multicolored energy as they launched through space and time to the realm of the Frost Giants. Any outsider would watch this and think that the velocity at which they were traveling would have torn their bodies apart or, at least, the impact would have broken every bone of their bodies, but as the cloud of ice and snow particles cleared they would be astounded to see that the troupe was completely unscathed. Everyone looked about themselves, separately displaying a different array of emotions.

Volstagg and Fandral looked upon the frozen wasteland in horror. Sif’s true emotion was obscured by a mask of apathy. Ara stared in wide-eyed fear, like a deer staring down the tip of an arrow,but a fear laced with loathing. And Thor looked on in awe and confusion, possibly because everywhere you looked there was nothing but ice and snow. The black ruins of buildings laid on the melting cliff-sides before them, and a never-ending chasm swallowed the air behind them. No sound was heard beside the foggy breaths of the group, the howl of the harsh wind, and the occasional crash of a slab of ice or building material breaking away. No being besides them could be seen. Loki looked around himself studying his surrounds, learning them to prepare himself for the battle that was sure to come,but Hogun was the first to speak,“We shouldn't be here.” Nobody produced an argument.

“Let’s move.” Despite the regret of everyone, nobody protested Thor’s order, and they silently made their way towards an unknown destination. The overwhelming feeling that they were being observed from the shadows chilled everyone to the core along with the terrible cold of the planet. Every noise, every sound made the parties’ eyes shift in concern. They all kept their hands close to their weapons as they narrowed their eyes at the black nothingness around them. Ara’s ears slowly began to tune into the unnatural silence, taking in everything from the snow that just barely crunched beneath her boots to gentle whispers of voices she heard on the wind. They sounded sad, and although she could make out few words from their language, she knew that they had experienced great tragedy. Men, women, and children, all crying out in harmony for an aid that would never come. She cocked her head to the side, watching in silent scrutinization as a nearly boulder crashed into the remains of some sort of bridge, a sight that chilled her spine, but she quickly dismissed it in favor of looked forward to their apparent destination. It seemed to be a structure made of frosted, black stone. A temple, perhaps? It shone in the moonlight, giving it, with its torn tapestries, an aura of dread that could never be fabricated. As they advanced, Ara was slowly overtaken by a choking feeling, as if the very air was attacking her. She felt anger, an overwhelming rage radiating from the ground they walked on. She shut the onslaught out as best she could, but the hateful energy remained, following the group towards their doom.

After seemingly a lifetime spent without words, Lady Sif gave the one question on everyone’s mind voice, “Where are they?”

“Hiding. As cowards always do.” At Thor’s lead, they all walked into the small plaza before the building.

Suddenly a dark, crackling voice sounded from the structure, “You've come a long way to die, Asgardians.”

No face was given to the threatening sound; a matter that was certainly unsettling, but nevertheless, Thor was not dissuaded from his goal. “I am Thor Odinson.”

The voice returned, bordered with mockery for Thor’s introduction, “We know who you are.” The statement rebounded off the walls giving it more malice than what seemed possible from an already irate enemy.

“How did your people get into Asgard?” The future king of said realm spoke with hatred and false control, and the snow fall swirling about the party, pushed and pulled by what seemed to be nothing more than their own breaths, felt as if it knew the course of this conversation beginning to take a turn for the worse.

The voice finally revealed itself to be housed in the body of a Frost Giant sitting on a broken throne of black stone: Laufey. His red eyes glowed with contempt for Thor and the rest of the group, and when he next spoke, his words were laced in challenge. “The house of Odin is full of traitors.” Judging by Thor’s heated response, it seemed that war would be upon them sooner than Ara thought.

“Do not dishonor my father’s name with your lies!” At this Laufey stood, his height frightening the party that much more as Jotun warriors came forth from the surrounding darkness.

“Your father is a murderer and a thief. And why have you come here? To make peace? You long for battle. You crave it. You're nothing but a boy, trying to prove himself a man.” Everyone tightened their holds on their weapons as Jotuns began to surround them on all sides, and Ara bit the inside of her mouth as a terrible attempt to keep her attention on the desolation that would come instead of the desolation that had once been.

“This boy has grown tired of your mockery!” The Jotuns closed in around the group, icicles growing to cover their arms. Meanwhile Loki raced to Thor's side trying to counsel him into not putting everyone in danger.

“Thor, stop and think. Look around you. We are outnumbered.”

Thor consumed by pride and the need to prove himself shoved Loki with his shoulder, “Know your place brother.”

Laufey looked from Thor to Loki, and back again, in sick seriousness, “You know not what your actions would unleash. I do. Go now, while I still allow it.” A Frost Giant of immense stature walked up to Thor and Loki, challenging the pair of them.

Loki gave a small bow to the warrior and to Laufey, “We will accept your most gracious offer.” Loki turned nearly immediately and gestured for Thor to followed him, “Come on, brother.” And everyone in the company breathed a sigh of relief when he turned and made to leave, but the feeling of maybe-we-won't-die-today was short-lived.

“Run back home, little princess.”

Loki took the liberty of voicing everyone’s thoughts, “Damn.” And Thor smiled and loosened his grip on his mighty hammer, Mjölnir, so that he was holding it more comfortably as he swung around to slam it under the chin of the name-calling Jotun, sending him flying back into the temple. There was no going back now.

“Next?” Thor turned to another nearby Jotun and did the same. The Jotuns charged at Thor, who easily pummeled them left and right with his hammer. The rest of the group immediately sprung into action. Hogun pressed a button on his mace revealing it to be spiked, and, with amazing speed, beat back the arms of an attacking Frost Giant, leaving him wide open for attack and went for the heart. Lady Sif dropped the shield and pulled out her dual-bladed long staff, stabbing one end into the stomach of a charging Jotun behind her with ease and flipping his body into another. Meanwhile, Fandral was laughing like an evil mastermind as be blocked the attacks of his blade-wielding enemy. Loki put his magic skills to work by effectively breaking the icicled arm of a Jotun charging at him from across the plaza, and it seemed that Volstagg was taking the “Thor Method” with his own axe: hit first, ask questions later. Ara played as eyes and ears for everyone else: taking out the ones coming at them from their blind zones or at least impairing them. She shot forward at a Jotun coming at Sif, ducking his club and kicking his feet out from under him which thus granted Sif enough time to spear him through the heart. They had been making some headway when Thor decided to only make things worse for them. He kicked the body of a dead Jotun away in disgust and called out to Laufey, “At least make it a challenge for me!” Battle cries sounded through the air as more and more of Laufey’s warriors jumped, literally, into the fray from the roof of the temple. These were the more seasoned warriors, and one slammed his fist down on impact, sending a pillar of ice right into Hogun's chin, knocking him to the ground. Another head-butted Thor and then sent him flying with a punch to the face. Of course, being Thor, his response was “That’s more like it” as he sent Mjölnir flying, knocking into the face of the Frost Giant before he returned it to his hand in triumph. Meanwhile, Ara had made herself useful by running forward and using Fandral as a springboard as she pulled out her two short-swords, quickly embedding them into the exposed flesh of a Frost Giant's back. The Jotun's roar was heard throughout the plaza as she balanced her knees on the hilts of the swords and used her hands to snap the warrior's neck. When she landed on the ground, removing her weapons from the body with a soft grunt, she winced. Her vision was starting to blur slightly on the edges as visions began to dance around her eyes: remains of the war that once took place on this same ground. The voices were growing louder in her head, causing a slight dizziness to overtake her. Fandral watched her back as she tried to calm her mind, "Could you try to be a little less cocky, Thor? Some of us want to get out of this alive!" His only response was a smirk as the battle continued to rage on.

On the other side of the plaza, Lady Sif was doing pretty well until a Jotun caught her staff and kneed her in the gut, but said Frost Giant was killed with a knife to the heart by Hogun. Ara froze in fear as what little concentration she had left focused on a Jotun charging straight at Loki, who was standing on a cliff-side, but her worry was unnecessary as the Frost Giant passed right through the illusion to fall to his death. Meanwhile, a roar filled her ears, and she turned just in time to roll from an oncoming attack only to trip over her feet as she tried to right herself. Luckily, Fandral was close enough to quickly dispatch the Giant and then give her a hand up, “Watch out!” Ara saw a Frost Giant charging at them out of her peripheral and had just enough time to scream as Fandral swung her around himself, launching her at the enemy. She kicked the Jotun in the face, landing none-too-gracefully on her rump, and watched as Fandral then skewered him through the heart while he was stunned.

Ara turned as a deep bellow filled her ears, her muscles moving groggily. She watched as Sif stabbed a Frost Giant in the heart and then quickly turned to block the oncoming ice barrage of another, when Volstagg yelled, “Don't let them touch you!” And she noticed that a patch of skin on his arm now sported a blueish-black mark in the shape of a hand. It was smoking, too her disgust and concern, like burned meat. Volstagg's pain distracted her long enough for a Frost Giant to attack her. She was only present enough in her own mind to scream in pain as she felt the bones in her left arm breaking. In her vulnerability, vision after vision crashed down upon her as she was launched head first into the final minutes of the spirits that had been trying to get her attention. Sif quickly ran to her aid, only to find Ara, clinging to her lifeless arm and screaming at seemingly nothing. A dead Jotun lay near her, but she didn't have the time to wonder how Ara had lay waste to the creature in her distress. Sif tried to wake the girl from her terror, but she just continued to scream, her eyes staring blankly at her feet as Sif tried to get her to stand.

* * *

Thor continued to beat back the masses, and Loki, hearing Ara’s scream of pain, rushed towards her, killing a Jotun in the process. In response to Ara’s state, he simply pressed two fingers to her temple and sent her into a sleeping trance, immediately silencing her while Sif defended against any on-coming attacks. It only got worse from there when Fandral became disarmed. He ducked through the legs of his attacker to retrieve his saber, but was stabbed through the chest, very close to the heart, when he turned to attack another. Loki, using his free hand, sent forth a blast of energy and killed Fandral's attacker as Volstagg and Hogun lifted Fandral off the spike of ice coming from the ground.

Loki and Sif shared a brief understanding look. If they didn't get out now, they would all perish. Sif's worried and angered voice echoed to Thor's ears, “Thor!”

Loki screamed at Thor in aggravation, his gaze flickering down to look at Ara in worry as he felt her mind suffering even in the trance, “We must go!”

“Then go!” Thor flung his hammer forward, knocking it into the faces of several Jotuns, effectively clearing a path for them. They thought they were home free, but then the ground began to quake and everyone watched, horrified as a huge beast, froze in the walls of the temple, began to break free from it's confides.

Volstagg quickly lifted Fandral onto his shoulders and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Run!” Loki didn't need to be told twice as he cradled Ara in his arms and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. She was nothing but a rag-doll, her destroyed limb bouncing around, dangling uselessly by her side. Everyone was racing forward, and Loki turned to call to Thor again, when a monstrous roar was released and the giant beast, huge fangs and all, came running at them. The sheer weight of the rampaging thing had the buildings around them crashing down, falling atop the beast, slowing him down just enough for Sif to dodge the dangerous spikes of the creature’s tail.

Suddenly the ground beneath their feet began to give way, and the beast fell into a chasm after just barely missing Hogun with its tail. Fandral let out a weak laugh at the creature’s demise, watching it fall into the blackness where the ground had once been, but they weren't out of the woods yet. And the company ran faster than ever as they hopped from crumbling piece of earth to crumbling piece of earth. The group was completely out of breath, begging to Heimdall to open the bridge, when they finally reach the spot they had originally been transported to. But there was no answer. Everyone looked to each other in panic when the bridge didn't open, but not in as much panic as when the beast they thought had fallen to its death threw down its giant, clawed paw in front of them on the cliff-side.

It roared, making Sif stumbled off her feet for a moment in terror; this was the end.The terrible monster reared back on its hind legs and was about to bring its claws down, when a flurry of red flew into the creatures mouth, burst out the back, and landed in front of them. Thor watched the now dead creature fall into the darkness off the cliff-side, then turned to his friends with a smile that fell when he saw Laufey and his warriors encircling them. The seven Asgardians, four of them officially useless in battle, crowded closer together as the army of thousands came running at them.

The only thing that stopped the warrior’s deaths was a loud crack that came from the sky above them. The cosmos opened up, and the stream of light that was the rainbow bridge shot forth. Where there had once been nothing more than ground covered in snow and ice, was light-filled safety and hope graced by the Allfather sitting on the back of his mighty war-horse, his entirety sending off waves of power and honor. None of the warriors breathed a sigh of relief though. They were saved, but now the Allfather was sure to punish them for their actions. Thor smiled and gave his father a call to arms, “Father, we'll finish them together!”

“Silence.” Thor's face fell at his father’s rejection, and Laufey approached Odin, forming a stepping stool of ice to lock eyes with the King of Asgard.

“Allfather, you look weary.” His dark voice sounded less menacing with the Sovereign Ruler of all the Nine Realms present, but that didn't stop the mockery and malice from wounding the prides of all Asgardians present. All but Odin who, even though the comment was true, responded with strength and power flowing through his aged voice.

“Laufey, end this now.”

Laufey grimaced as he spoke, giving off the impression that simply talking to Odin was physically hurting him, “Your boy sought this out.” Volstagg and the others looked to Thor in worry as the prince stared at Laufey in hatred.

Odin remained calm and collected, “You're right. These are the actions of a boy. Treat them as such. You and I can end this, here and now, before there's further bloodshed.”

“We are beyond diplomacy now, Allfather. He'll get what he came for, war and death.” Loki looked down at Ara’s tortured expression, her entire body trembling at whatever phantasms were plaguing her. More pain? War? Death? This was not what he wanted. He had not planned for this. He looked down at his exposed arm, swallowing in fear of the questions he knew would have to be answered, questions he was too afraid to ask.

“So be it.” Laufey let out a war cry as he raised an ice spike at Odin. But right before he was about to strike, Laufey was blown back as the Bifröst opened and Odin, Thor, Loki, Ara, and the others were consumed by the stream of light and transported back to Asgard. Loki held tightly to Ara as they shot through space and time once more, and for a brief moment he was comforted by the lights of Asgard’s stars, by the idea that he might still have a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. The next chapter "Just Beyond the Void" is now up.


	5. Just Beyond the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Boners, lady-butts, and ample cleavage are present in this chapter.

Ara looked about herself with uncertainty; every movement she made, every breath, seemed louder than normal -- almost as if her voice called past herself for something more from the space around her. She felt more aware than ever before, and yet she had no idea where she was. The world was gray, all one uniform color bleeding in and about her, but judging by the barely visible tangle of monochrome wood and vines that grew as a wall on all sides of her- She was in the Grove.

The trees, although drained and dull, held a certain light about them. Ara wriggled her toes in the smoky grass at her feet, noticing that her form seemed to blend with the rest of her surrounds, the odd world’s energy pulsing from the earth beneath her feet to the point where the leaves touched the sky. The sky was the only thing that wasn’t gray, acting like a white haze lying above her head. The young Asgardian opened her mouth to speak, a light gasp echoing throughout the somber land enclosing her as her sight was met by a dark shadow casting itself over her. She suddenly felt as if hands were clawing at her from the abyss, and she twirled about herself, covering her face with her hands as gnarled faces screeched at her from just beyond the void.

Just as quickly as the onslaught had begun, it was over, and Ara hesitantly reopened her eyes, gazing at her feet where a fiery-coated fox sat patiently and surveyed her with its large, green eyes. It didn't take long for Ara to react, smiling down at the creature with a fondness that could only suggest that she knew the beast. Its curled lips didn't move, and yet a voice seemed to respond to Ara’s remembrance by lazily drifting from the creature’s body. “*Hei, kjære.” The fox leapt to its agile feet and trotted ahead a few steps, calling back, “Follow me. We have much to discuss.”

Ara did as she was told and trailed behind the delicate footsteps of her mother’s astral form. The soul is ageless, sexless, and formless, so how a soul appeared to others was no more than a choice of the soul. This knowledge was not lost to Ara, which is why she still found it interesting that her mother took to regarding her in her patron animal form. “*Mor, before you arrived I was plagued by a terrible shadow. What was it?”

“You have been to the land of the Jotuns. Their dead have now latched onto you. They seek solace and have for many years. You are one of the first to acknowledge their suffering, even if you never meant to.”

“They will follow me,” Ara commented. It was not her first experience with restless spirits, but she was afraid that she would be unable to help the deceased giants. The bonds between her world and theirs was still too strained to pass on messages to the physical world for them. “I received the prophecy.” The fox was silent at this, walking and weaving amongst the root systems of the Grove. After a moment, Ara grew angry, walking in front of her mother and planting her feet firmly to the ground, halting the fox’s attempts to keep moving forward. “If I can't alter what has been foretold, then why foretell it? Why warn us?”

“Because the prophecy isn't finished...Think of divination as less of focusing on a fixed point but rather a stream. Time is constantly flowing forward, melted snow and rainwater, adding onto the current.” The pair began walking again, slowly now and at each other’s sides.

“So all auguries are a continuation of the one before it.”

“Precisely. You can't alter a prophecy that has already been foretold, but you can use your knowledge to change the one that will happen.”

“So change the future before I know when it will happen and how?”

“Yes, not a task easily met I'm afraid.”

“How will I know what will happen next? Or how my actions could change it?”

“The answers will come to you in time. But for now we must-” Ara cringed as she was ripped from the psychic plane. Her vision was blinded as she tried to hold on to her thoughts, attempting to bring them back to her body with her. “Mor!”

“*Gå nå , barnet mitt. Husk og tenke.”

* * *

 

 _Flashes of color. Fireworks? No, they were in a wave, a tunnel, a…Bifröst. The rainbow bridge, of course! Cold? Snow and ice. Broken throne. Black stone. Jotuns. Jotunheim. Yes, they went to Jotunheim for answers. Pain, why was there pain? Volstagg- burn. Fandral…Fandral was hurt; he was stabbed. War. War and death. Anger. Hate. Kill. Kill. Kill. Pain. Lots of pain. Broken bones. Broken arm._ Ara winced inwardly as the memories of what had occurred flooded back to her, and she could feel her right arm throb in agony. She tried to move, but groaned when her entire body protested and resisted. She attempted to open her eyes, but they felt as though someone had placed a sack of flour on them. So she gave up and tried to use her ears instead. Life and reality slowly came back to her numb being, for she started to make out the hushed voices of someone or, perhaps, a group of people. As time went on she could separate the voices into at least the categories of what seemed to be masculine and feminine, and she could soon determine that there were possibly four or five people near her.

She could hear the light crackling of a fire and the panicky thump of feet on a stone floor. Feeling came back to her in the warmth of the fire and the cold of some surface her body was against. She felt as though she was sleeping, but she was awake. Was she? Her breathing became ragged as she was hit full force with the prospect of being almost completely cut off from the world. The voices were still incoherent mumbles, and she longed to make out some words. Where was she? What had happened? Why was she seemingly trapped inside her own body? Her mind pounded against her skull as her thoughts became no more than a jumble of questions that needed answering. A small voice in the back of her head echoed a single, itching word to her: prophecy. ‘Come on, Ara. Move.’ She tried to move her body again, but stopped once more when her left arm screamed for peace. She felt on the verge of tears or screaming, maybe both, but her mind was calmed when she heard a familiar voice say something understandable for once.

“We should never have let him go.” It took a few minutes to process the statement, but she eventually put the deep, burly voice to the face of Volstagg. Okay, so he was with her, who else?

A sad, but thoughtful and strong voice answered her silent question, “There was no stopping him.” Sif. Alright, she had Sif and Volstagg with her, good. Did they know she was there? She had to let them know that she was okay. She tried to move her body one last time and succeeded in moving her arm enough to make her actually yelp in pain this time. The sound of quickened feet rushed to her ears, and a roughly calloused hand held her arm down, which made her wince in pain.

“Do not move. You are healing.” Ara breathed a sigh of relief at the calming and serious presence of Hogun. She was safe. She was in the Healing Room. But, wait, what about everyone else? She slowly opened her eyes and looked up to be met with the sight of her friend running a cool cloth over her burning forehead.

In a groggy, tired, and dry voice that barely sounded like her own, she coughed out a very cracked, “F-Fandral?” The hazy veil that had situated itself over her eyes began to lift as she felt her core temperature drop from the high of what she assumed was a fever. She turned her head to the side, groaning at the pins and needles she felt tickle her neck, and blinked lazily at the man she heard scoff. The man in question was sitting without any torso clothing on save that of a light blue and white striped, fur vest.

He smirked, “Worried about me, were you.” It was a prideful statement accompanied by an “award winning” smile. She tried to sound sarcastic and condescending, but her vocal cords forbade it, and her recoil turned into something that sounded very pathetic and childish.

“-very much so.” She tried to sit up, but was pushed down by a light shove from Hogun. She turned her head to look at him and noticed that he was glaring at her. She laughed, “Right, right. No moving, got it. How long until I can move?” Hogun opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by Volstagg.

“Come now, Hogun. She looks fine. You need not fuss over her like a mother hawk.” The bearded man then turned to Ara, “He has refused to leave you unattended since we got here. And to answer your question before you ask it, about an hour now.” She smiled and mouthed a thank you to Volstagg, and then turned to face Hogun. She used her good arm to push herself up.

When she was sitting, on what she now noticed was a high table placed against the wall, she smiled at Hogun, “Thank you for your concern, but I am fine other than a throbbing ache in my arm which I can easily deal with without much grimacing.” Hogun set his mouth into a line and resigned to putting her arm in a sling before leaving to tend to Volstagg’s burn.

Ara looked at her injured arm in disgust and rolled her shoulder, hissing in pain. Hogun had reset her bones in her unconscious state, and they would heal completely within the day due to the strong, herbal medicines Ara could smell coating her arm. Sadly the pain was still there. She ghosted her hand over her shoulder, down her arm, and back up, sighing in relief as her tense muscles and aching bones were hushed into relaxation at the feel of a familiar hand. During this, the others had decided to restart their conversation. Fandral was the first to address the topic they had left off on. “At least he’s only banished, not dead. Which is what we'd all be if that guard hadn’t told Odin where we'd gone.”

'Banished? Who was banished?' Ara felt that interrupting would not be the best tactic to get her questions answered, so she instead kept her worries silent and tried to figure-out the answer on her own. She looked about herself while testing out her shoulder by rolling and bending it in various ways, adjusting the strap that held her injured arm close to her chest. The table she was seated on was made of cold, gold metal just like that adorning the walls and floor of the room she was in. In the center of the room rested a triangle pit with a roaring fire in it. There were three couches with dark blue, velvet cushioning and gold, dragon statues on either side as armrests surrounding the triangle on its three sides. Hogun was moving from couch to couch, assisting the occupants with their different injuries. The sofa in front of her held Fandral, the one on the other side of him was occupied by Volstagg, and Lady Sif took the remaining sofa at the bottom of the triangle.

Meanwhile Loki was standing between her and Sif, with his side facing the group, and his front facing Ara. She made eye-contact with him and smiled lightly which he only partially returned before looking down at his hand like it was the most interesting and yet saddening thing in the universe. Ara thoroughly forgot what she was trying to uncover when she saw his expression. Was he injured? She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and worry. She meant to ask him what was wrong, but Volstagg’s voice filled the air first. In his typical voice, making the question sound like a jest, he asked, “How did the guard even know?”

“I told him.” Everyone, including Ara, looked to Loki in shock. However, Ara’s reason was not for the fact that he told the guard, but for the way he said it. She had suspected that he was telling the guard he had talked with to go fetch Odin from the moment she saw them conversing, but when he revealed this to the others he sounded too calm. His voice was completely monotone. It was fake. There was definitely something wrong with Loki, and it pained her heart that he kept his worries from her.

Fandral broke the silence, “What?” Loki responded without a pause, but in the same monotone, controlled voice.

“I told him to go to Odin after we'd left. He should be flogged for taking so long. We should have never reached Jotunheim.”

Volstagg yelled with outrage, “You told the guard?” Loki, now facing the group, fiddled with his hands as he once again didn't let a beat fill the conversation.

“I saved our lives. And Thor’s.” Ara remembered her question and looked about herself quickly, ‘Thor. Oh, please let him not be banished.’ She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, lifting a hand to run a tense finger along her nose and forehead. She mentally cursed when Loki answered her plea, “I had no idea Father would banish him for what he did.” She knew that he was reckless, idiotic, vain, greedy, and many other terrible things, but he was still a prince of Asgard, their future king, and one of Ara’s best-friends.

‘What will happen now?’ Ara groaned, but then paused, thoughtfully rolling her thought around her mind with a hesitant happiness tickling her neurons, ‘Loki will be king.’ She thought that statement over in different forms. Loki. King Loki. Loki the King of Asgard. She suddenly felt her heart start to pound heavily in her chest with a newfound sense of loyalty, and she almost smiled at the thought of her intellectual friend ruling all of Asgard. But her smile faded when she remembered that the price was Thor’s banishment. Where was he? Was he alone? He must miss them all horribly. She frowned, ‘Oh, I hope he is okay.’

Ara refocused her wandering thoughts to her other friends and noticed that Sif was now pleading with Loki, “Loki, you must go to the Allfather and convince him to change his mind.”

“And if I do, then what? I love Thor more dearly than any of you, but you know what he is. He's arrogant. He's reckless. He's dangerous. You saw how he was today. Is that what Asgard needs from its king?” Loki strode away, pushing the double doors to the room apart in pent-up anger and made his way to an unknown destination.

Ara sighed, she wanted to follow him, to ask him of his troubles, but stayed seated knowing that what he needed right now was space. She frowned as Sif began to persecute Loki. “He may speak about the good of Asgard, but he has always been jealous of Thor.”

Volstagg was, at least, slightly kinder. “We should be grateful to him. He saved our lives.”

She growled audibly when Hogun put forth his two cents, catching his eye for a moment until he sent her a look that was both challenging and hurt, “Laufey said there were traitors in the House of Odin. A master of magic could easily bring three Jotuns into Asgard.”

Much to Ara’s surprise, however, Fandral tried to calm the situation down, “Loki’s always been one for mischief, but you’re talking about something else entirely.”

Ara finally decide to speak up, and she was glad to find that her voice was well enough now to make her bite of anger at the implications set forth hearable, “Agreed.” Ara was not one for conflict, but she couldn't bare the idea of all of this pain somehow being Loki’s doing. Moreover, the string that she could feel pulling itself taut between every individual in the room was becoming too much at that point. Ara would be the first to admit that Thor was the glue that somehow managed to keep all of the company together in times such as these, and with him gone, the tension in the air was more palpable than ever. And she knew that all of the stress coursing through her fellow warriors bodies and minds would eventually be aimed at Loki, as it always was. Ara gritted her teeth and leapt off the table, wobbling a bit on her tired legs as she walked away in frustration, “If you need me, don't.”

* * *

At that, an ominous voice filled the air, but it was unheard by all except by the one whom it belonged to: Heimdall. He had watched the entire scene unfold in worry, and he sent a guard near him to give a message to Ara. **'Her love for him would be her downfall, if it wasn't his savior.'**

* * *

Ara hurried down the multitude of hallways, her head running wild with thoughts and emotions. She stopped for a moment in her quickened step to take a calming breath, repeating the words that Loki always seemed to ground her with, “Relax. All is well.” She then looked at her feet in question and bit her lip, “Now, where was I going?” After much deliberation, she concluded that their library was the best place to be. Not the normal library which was open to all of Asgard, but their library. It was a small room, situated a floor beneath Ara’s bedroom, and it was entirely her and Loki’s.

It was originally a storage area for cooking ware and various foods, but it was abandoned when the kitchen was moved closer to the dining halls. Loki and Ara had found it, during younger years, when a rogue firework (for Loki had just learned how to produce them) crashed through the window. They made it their hideaway. They would go there and just talk, sometimes for hours, or they would just enjoy the silence of being alone together as they each practiced their respective crafts. Starting with Ara, the pair started bringing books to read to each other. Eventually piles of novels and stories by their favorite authors, and, much to her dismay, Ara’s own private works (storytelling being a hobby she had picked up from her grandfather) reached near the ceiling. After Ara was almost crushed by a large pile of books, wishing to read Sands in Time by Kris Valonson which was at the bottom, Loki decided that things needed to be improved.

Ara was told to keep away from the room until her birthday, which angered her greatly, but when she could finally see it, she was astounded. Loki had not only fixed the broken window, but converted it into a bay window. It allowed more natural sunlight into the room, and Ara was pleased that this space now had the splendid view that she usually got from her balcony just above, even with the ivy that would find home on her balcony several years into the future laying its veil over it. The cushioning on the window seat was black velvet, and the broken tile flooring was transformed into a soft, white carpet. A large, comfy reading chair was moved into the space, and it was placed in the very center of the room. She was glad to see that it was easily movable, so that if she wanted to sit on the bay window, Loki could still face her.

Ara knew that he was good at magic, but she was completely blown back by the room’s new look. She nearly started to cry when she looked at the walls to see them be completely comprised of bookshelves, filled with all the piles they had originally laid out. They were organized by author and name, and Ara almost fainted when she noticed that one section, near the bay window and low so that the two children could reach it without hindrance, was completely dedicated to her work.

She smiled as she remembered how shocked Loki was when she had enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug and refused to let go for a whole five minutes. She followed her smile with a forlorn sigh, ‘Oh, if only things were that easy now.’ She finally reached the room and pushed the white, wood door open with a smile at the welcoming sight of her many “friends” waiting to be read or written. She walked in and closed the door, not bothering to lock it, and collapsed on the comfortable carpet below her. She giggled and rubbed her tired face on the beautiful surface, then she sat up and removed her boots and socks. She always did this when she came here and was proud to admit she had gotten Loki into the habit as well.

She rubbed her sore feet against the carpet and a pleased sigh escaped her throat. She got up, stretching like a cat would and making plenty of noises to go along with the action, and placed her battle-worn shoes by the door. She then unlaced the red jacket she was wearing from her person (a task which was made increasingly difficult due to her sling) and placed the lovely fabric gently over her boots. She frowned, wriggling her toes in the carpeting, “Still lacking a certain element of comfort...” She looked down at the pants and corset she was wearing, silently agreeing with her body that the fabric was too restricting in this moment. She didn't feel like walking up to her room to get something else to wear, and although it might have been considered unsightly, she was pleased enough with the idea of flouncing about half-naked to ignore her worries about someone seeing her.

With a grunt and a rustle of fabric, Ara’s pale legs met the warmth of the library in a graceful dance, her strong muscles twitching beneath the surface of her skin as she bounced on her heels. The only clothing now covering her most intimate parts from view was a lacy, black thong and her large, white undershirt. She giggled in remembrance of Sif nearly fainting when she had casually mentioned to her during one of their many sleepovers of her undergarment preference. She quickly shook the thought from her head as the even more prominent thought of Sif being a very taken Asgardian entered her mind as she folded and set her pants and corset on top of her jacket. She hummed in contentment and lazily draped herself on Loki’s chair. It was never agreed that it was his chair, but Ara tended to sit on the bay window seat, so he was normally left to sit in the fuzzy, earthen-colored furniture. She smiled and buried her face in the welcoming fabric. There was that smell again. Gods, why did he have to smell so fantastic? She giggled, and she turned to face her personal section of the library. She felt the overwhelming urge to write something, so she crawled over and plucked a book from her section and carried it back to her seat. With a smirk she set the story open on her lap, a novel still under construction titled Dear Lover, Lost Are We.

She flipped the book open to the page she had last written on and picked up the magic quill that Loki had gifted her, called such because it never ran out of ink, from it’s placed wedged between the book’s pages and began to write. Slowly words began to form on the page:

“Dear Cathernyne,

I refuse and resist with every fiber of my miniscule being, with every beat of the disgusting muscle I dare call a heart, to admit to you anything I have witnessed or sadly taken part in as of late. I don’t do this as a means to lie to you, but simply as a way to keep you complete and whole, void of all despicable faults and evils as I am now housing in my entirety. Let this be not a recollection of sins, but a beautiful remembrance of moments and intimacies I have and will share with you. Cathernyne. Oh my beloved Cathernyne -- how my blood, my life, becomes a monstrous flux of energy and love when I think of our last day together. Even as you waved goodbye from the cobblestone walkway of our humble home, even as those tears of regret and wishing poured from your eyes to create lines of sorrow, framing your perfect face, even when I wanted to wipe the slate of my mind clean from the thought of war and patriotism, even when I longed to be able to drop my bags and rush to your side, even when I wanted to hold you, even when I needed to love you, even when-

Oh, my sweet. My darling Cathernyne. You shouted to me with pride in your lungs that day, and you held your head high. Continue to do so, for I fear it is the only thing keeping this poor, ship-builder alive-”

“I like it.” A gasp bit Ara’s lips as a low voice interrupted her thoughts, and she clumsily slammed her book shut in surprise. She turned and laughed as she was met by Loki’s typical smirk, “But you are in my chair.” His eyes wandered over her body, widening at the sight of her flushed legs and the barely noticeable curve of her breasts beneath her loose shirt. He was roughly jerked from his thoughts by Ara’s voice.

Ara smiled and raised a playful eyebrow, “Oh, really? Well, I’m not moving, so if you wish me gone from _your chair_ then you are going to have to move me yourself.” Her giggles morphed into squeals of surprise when she felt his arms wrap around her waist. Loki lifted her out of the chair with ease and unceremoniously dropped her on the ground. The scantily-clad woman let out a small whimper of discomfort, despite the excitement of their game, and glared at the trickster, “Cruel.” He smirked and sat on the chair with his legs spread wide and his elbows resting on his knees. He leaned forward to grab Ara’s book, but she rolled away and whined, “No, not until its finished.” She crawled over to her shelves and returned the book to it’s spot, much to Loki’s enjoyment of the beautiful shape of her rump so precariously hidden beneath her blouse.

He tilted his head to the side and bent forward a bit before questioning her outfit choice, “What are you wearing? Or more correctly, not wearing.”

Ara smirked, looking back at him as she sat on her heels, “Whatever I please. I own my body, and I may reveal as little or as much of it as I desire. Even to the wandering eyes of piggish men such as you.” Ara stuck out her tongue and wriggled her eyebrows playfully. Loki laughed at her childish nature and leaned back, releasing a relaxed and somehow sad sigh as he crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. Though he opened one piercing, green eye and looked down when he felt a slight pressure on his left knee. He smirked at the sight of Ara with her head resting on his knee. She looked like a lost puppy, and the act was carried out further when she pouted and start to whimper like a dog would. He chuckled and opened his arms out to her, a gesture which she responded to by woofing as a dog would and crawling onto his lap. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, and her legs hung over the armrest. He smiled and ran a soothing hand along her spine, but the duo remained quite -- neither knowing what to say, or where to begin.

Eventually, Loki decided to start conversation by enlightening on the obvious, “Thor’s been banished to Midgard. He is to live amongst the humans as a mortal.” Ara said nothing, but simply buried her face deeper into the neck of her friend. “Father has fallen into the Odin-sleep.” She detached her head from his shoulder at this and gave him a questioning look. He looked out the window in sadness, “I know not who will rule in his place...most likely it will be Mother.” He looked back to her and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, “I will be with Mother and Father tomorrow, for most of the day.”

Ara smiled, “I'll try not to miss you too much.” The two shared an air of contentment, but nothing more. “What weighs on my friend’s heart?”

Loki looked to her in confusion, “I know not what you mean.”

The woman smirked bitterly, “Loki Odinson, how many years have I spent at your side- I know when you are not well.” Ara noticed how he seemed to flinch when she said Odinson, but she thought nothing of it other than possibly a brief chill.

Loki sighed, and in the monotone he had used in the healing room, said, “I can't speak of it, not now. Not yet.“ Ara was hurt that Loki felt like he couldn't confide in her, but she respected his wishes and remained silent until he tickled his fingers along the hem of her shirt and hummed, “What of you?“

She sighed and resituated herself so that her back was resting on the armrest, and her head was finding comfort in the crook of Loki’s arm. She fiddled with the fabric detailing the edge of her undershirt, the pair’s fingers performing a sort of dance, “My heart is heavy.” Loki looked down at her and nodded, confirming that he was listening. “I have received a foretell of the future, and I talked with my mother while unconscious in the healing room.” Ara shuttered, and Loki merely tilted his head to the side in curiosity. She smiled at his lost expression, but then her own grew serious again. “I must spot the future before it happens, but I know not when it will occur or what I must do- How does one find a grain of sand in a bowl of pebbles and call it a diamond…” She broke away from her thoughts with an empty laugh and stared pleadingly at the man that was with her, “I fear that this is not just another simple prophecy. I can sense a shadow of death hanging over all of us at this very moment.” She was silent for a moment before she whispered, “What if I fail to stop this? What if I take the wrong course of action?” She thought that she would be met with disgust at her confession, but she only saw sanctuary in his Loki’s.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. No words came from his mouth, but she knew that just from his embrace alone, she had nothing to fear. The truth was that, in war, there was no right or wrong. There were no monsters. Only death. Death and life, hanging in a carefully constructed balance. There was no moral there, only the need to survive and be loyal to your cause. Ara returned the embrace by wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. They stayed like this for a while until a knock was heard on the door to their “secret” library. The pair attempted to quickly untangle themselves from each other’s grasps, but it only ended with them both falling to the ground. They groaned in pain, but went quiet when they noticed the position they were in.

Ara was on the ground with Loki straddling her thighs, and their lips were mere centimeters apart. To make it worse Ara’s shirt had been disheveled so much so that the white fabric laid in a crumpled mess just below her nipples, revealing an ample portion of her cleavage to Loki’s wide eyes. Ara gasped, face turning the color of Thor’s cape, and shoved Loki off of her. He fell to the side on his back with a not-so-graceful thud, his face also red. Ara stood and readjusted her appearance, quickly tossing on her pants. She then opened the door with an innocent smile to see a guard standing on the other side of the entry way. He gave Ara a small bow, “Ara, Heimdall requests your presence when you see it…” The guard trailed off when he looked past her to see Loki, one of the princes of Asgard, lying on his back. Ara followed his gaze. Loki’s hands were covering his eyes, and he was biting his lip to the point that Ara thought he might make himself bleed. His face was as brightly red as a wartime sunset, and he had the beginnings of what both assumed would be a very uncomfortable erection. Ara’s eyes widened, and her face matched Loki’s in color.

She turned to face the guard and blocked the sight of Loki with her body. “Y-yes. You were saying?” The guard snapped his attention back to Ara; he tried to put off that he was focused, but now his face was becoming the same shade as theirs.

He coughed, “Yes, um, when you see it most relevant.” With that he bowed again and quickly scurried back to wherever he came from. Ara shut the door, and rested her burning forehead against the cool, wood surface as she tried to breath normally again. She groaned, turning herself around, and she slid down the door. She sat criss-cross applesauce, with her elbows on her knees, and her head in her hands, she mentally cursed herself in frustration, confusion, and wonder.

‘What in the Nine Realms just happened?’ She bit her tongue so as not to voice her question and all that came out was a groan as she rubbed her hands over her face. She lifted her head slightly and peeked through her hands. Was he gone yet? Nope, still there- Still there with an erection. The air around them was awkward and tense. Ara sighed and hid her face in her hands again, “Loki?” She heard a grunt, but nothing else. “Loki, I'm going to take my leave and go talk with Heimdall.” She heard nothing in reply and stood, throwing on the rest of her clothes and opening the door in the process. “You go take care of _that_.” She blushed at her own words as thoughts of what “take care of” might look like. Regardless, she swallowed dryly and swiftly walked out the door without looking back at the man she wanted so badly -- her sexual desires could wait, for the world seemed to be falling out from beneath her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hello, dear one.  
> *Mother  
> *Go now, my child. Remember and think.
> 
> I apologize for anyone following this story. I am still working on it, but not nearly as much as I used to. I promised forever and a half ago that I would update within a weeks time, and that was the plan... But things have changed, and I am currently fighting a personal battle that I might not win anytime soon. I will try to update, but it will not be on a set schedule, and it will not be regular. Again, I apologize, but hopefully some of you will understand. Thank you for your time. I hope you all have only the most beautiful of days...


End file.
